


Thief and Assassin

by Jael



Series: The Five Cities [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Assassins Guild, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Thieves Guild, arrowverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-08 02:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17378141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: Leonard is the head of the Centralis Thieves Guild. Sara, unexpectedly, has found herself the head of the Assassins Guild. To save their city and the kingdom, they'll have to work together-and they might find themselves falling for each other in the process.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonydreams/gifts).



> So, barely two weeks ago, I was thinking about all the fantasy books I used to read and still love. And the germ of an idea started-what about a CaptainCanary fantasy AU? Thieves and assassins are fantasy staples, after all. What, I thought on my commute home that day, if Leonard and Sara were the heads of the Thieves and Assassins Guilds, respectively, and had to work together to save their city?
> 
> And this happened. I'm posting seven chapters now, with four more and an epilogue to come soon. (Three more chapters are done and the rest are close.) I adore this AU, and I hope you do, too!
> 
> Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta and Pir8grl for reading, encouragement and many tips on useful clothing and setting-type things!

“Boss!”

Leonard, who’d been leaning back and contemplating the old fire-blackened beams overhead while balancing a dagger on one calloused fingertip, let his chair thump back to the floor, raising an eyebrow as his second in command thundered up the stairs and into his office. Mick tended not to run anywhere for nearly anyone these days, so this must be good…or bad, as the case may be.

His old friend halted in the doorway, catching his breath and grunting as Leonard merely looked at him with an inquiring expression. But Len didn’t speak, and Mick quickly got tired of waiting for his boss to ask.

“There’s a new head of the Assassins Guild,” he said shortly, folding his arms. “An’ she did it like you—the old way.”

That was…not even remotely news Len had expected. He’d admit that his mouth fell open, but he quickly closed it—although not before Mick saw the expression of shock and smirked victoriously.

Len ignored the expression but climbed to his feet, straightening his black tunic and thinking furiously.

“Then Darhk…”

“Is dead.” Mick actually grinned. “As a doornail. Cold meat. All that stuff. I think some of the junior Guild members threw ‘im off the South Gate cliffs.”

Given Darhk’s appetites and what he’d done to the once-respected Centralis Assassins Guild, Len wasn’t really surprised. But he was more concerned about other things at the moment.

“Her, you said.” he frowned thoughtfully. “Someone local?” He doesn’t know of anyone currently in the Guild, male or female, both or neither, who’d be able to take Darhk. If he did, things would have been different long before now. He’d have seen to that.

“Word is no. Newcomer to the city.” Mick paused. “From what I hear, I don’ think she knew what she was doing.”

Len paused in tucking a few stilettos up his sleeves. “She didn’t mean to kill him?”

“Nah. That, she meant. She didn’t know it would make her Guild head.” He shook his head. “Or…so Sarab said. I was down at Saints n’ Sinners when he came in. It’s still quiet…but it will be all over the city soon.”

Len winced, reaching out to collect his dagger from the desk. With a quick spin, he sheathed it at his belt. “That…”

“That could be real good--or real bad.” Mick nodded. “You wanna talk to her, boss? ‘Fore it all crashes in on her?”

Len paused, eyes fixed on the other item on his desk.

He remembered. He remembered what it was like…the determined challenger, the terrible Guild head who seemed hellbent on destroying everything that made the Guild system in Centralis work, the knowledge that loss meant death, and a particularly brutal one--and the realization that, even after victory, the hard work was just beginning.

“Yeah,” he said, picking up his Guild emblem and lowering the heavy platinum chain over his head, wrapping long fingers around the snowflake-shaped sapphire depending from it. “I do.”

* * *

Sara A’Stella, Ta-er al-Sahfar, master assassin, newly made Guild head in Centralis, was slowly, methodically, banging her head against the smooth, dark surface of her new desk.

Not hard enough to hurt herself, oh no. But enough to distract herself, from what she’d blundered into here and what she’d done to her future when she did.

She doesn’t regret killing Damien Darhk. She’d spent barely three days in Centralis and had known nearly immediately what needed to be done. But she hadn’t realized what that death, at her hands, would mean here.

Her fingers closed around the chain of the Guild emblem around her neck. The nearly black stone had belonged to Darhk, although Sara would be expected to get her own stone soon. The sooner the better—she hated having something that Darhk had owned on her person.

But what a new emblem would mean…

“Sara!” Amaya A’Zambesi, Sara’s dearest friend, who’d accompanied her to Centralis and thus gotten herself embroiled in this whole mess, too, poked her head in the door and frowned. “Stop that!” She paused, and Sara could very nearly hear her snicker. “You’re going to damage that very nice desk.”

Sara let her forehead rest on the surface. “If I knock myself out,” she pointed out thoughtfully, “I won’t have to deal with anything for a while.”

She heard Amaya sigh. Her friend, whom she’d met while traveling, wasn’t, properly speaking, an assassin, though she was a very talented warrior and mage—where she came from, the traditions weren’t always separated. Still, she’d made it clear to the members of the Assassins Guild that she wasn’t leaving Sara’s side, proper assassin or not, and Sara was beyond grateful for that.

“Well, here’s another reason to stop, then,” Amaya said then, just a bit tartly. “The head of Thieves Guild is here to meet you—to ‘pay his respects,’ he says.”  She paused as Sara lifted her head to stare at her, then smirked. “He’s quite attractive, actually. And very highly respected, from all I’ve heard.”

Sara sat up hastily, running a hand over the pale braids pinned up to her head and checking her clothing. After the battle early this morning, she’d scrubbed for what seemed like an hour and sent the clothing she’d been wearing off to be burned. She still didn’t feel entirely clean.

She wasn’t sure she ever would again.

Amaya’s eyes were sympathetic as Sara glanced back at her and cleared her throat. If something were amiss, Amaya would have said something, Sara knew. But she also understood.

“That was quick,” Sara said after a moment.

“Thieves always have the best sources of information.” Amaya paused. “His second’s with him. You…”

“You’re my second.” Sara stood, trying to sound uncompromising.

“ _Not_ an assassin,” Amaya reminded her. “The Guild…”

“Tough. They’ll have to live with it for now.” Sara shook her head. “I’m not taking anyone who had any kind of position of power under Darhk just because ‘that’s how things were always done.’ That’s how they got Darhk to begin with.” She hesitated. “Thieves Guilds traditionally work together with the Assassins Guild. I know we haven’t been here long, but…”

Amaya was shaking her head. “Not here.” She nibbled her lip. “I _have_ done some asking. There hasn’t been that sort of arrangement here at least since Leonard took over the Thieves Guild. No love lost.”

That can only be a good thing. “Leonard,” she mused. “No patrial?” And no patronym, although those are rare, only given by high nobility or royalty to families for services to the kingdom.

Sara doesn’t use hers.

Amaya shrugged. “A’Centralis, I presume, although he didn’t give one.” She eyed Sara. “And you probably shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.”

Sara waved a hand. “All right. Uh. Do I go down to him, or…”

Of course, Amaya had already found all that out. “I’ll send him to you. But be standing until he gets here, or you’re treating him like a supplicant.”

“Can’t have that.”

Amaya gave her one more encouraging smile, then departed. Sara fidgeted a little, looking around as she stood there in Damien Darhk’s old office, wondering how this had become her life.

She’d come to Centralis to join the Guild here because it was relatively close to Stella, and she couldn’t go back there—not yet. She hadn’t known that a mad man had taken over the Guild, that he was ruling it with an iron fist (and not in a good way), that she’d regret her decision to join nearly immediately and plan to leave—until she’d walked in on him “disciplining” three apprentices early this morning when she arrived to turn in her Guild token.

Two of the kids hadn’t made it. The third was still holding on. Everyone had known Darhk had a touch of magic—many people did. But until then, Sara hadn’t realized it took the form of blood magic.

There was a quiet step at the doorway. Sara looked up, trying to look both receptive and deadly. She knew she was both, but it was different trying to exude that.

The head of the Centralis Thieves Guild was a tall man with close-shaven graying hair and piercing blue eyes, eyes that were looking directly at her with an intent and curious expression. Amaya was right, Sara realized, eying him: He was attractive, graceful and poised with lean but undeniable muscle. Older--Sara put him at about 10 years her senior—but definitely attractive. Sexy, even.

And that was _so_ completely not what she should be thinking right now.

Sara cleared her throat. “Hello,” she said quietly. “I’m Ta-er…Sara A’Stella. And I suppose that you know by now that…” She spread her hands, indicating the office around her. “…I’m the new head of the Assassins Guild.”

The man regarded her another moment, then inclined his head, those remarkable eyes still holding hers.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice low and intense and every bit as attractive as the physical aspect. Damn.

Still, the words weren’t what she was expecting. “Excuse me?”

“For taking out Darhk.” The man shrugged, a one-shouldered gesture, as he took one step into the office, pausing before going far enough to connote any sort of threat. “I’d dreamed of doing it myself, but….” He let his voice trail off, then shrugged again, smirking at her.

“Anyway,” he drawled, spreading his hands out before him just like she had. “Leonard. Head of the Thieves Guild. A’Centralis, but I generally just use ‘Len.’”

Sara lifted her chin, watching him, wondering what he was thinking. “Len,” she returned. “And why is that?”

The question was imprecise, and she regretted it immediately, but Len zeroed right in on what she really meant—and chose to answer it.

“Because he was bad for the guild and bad for this city,” he said flatly, looking her right in the eyes. “Really bad. I did whatever I could to counteract it. But there was only so much, and…” He let both shoulders rise and fall. “I had my own to watch out for.”

“Your own.”

“My guild.” For the first time, there was a crack in that smooth façade. Sara, watching, saw anger and determination and even a touch of regret in those ice-blue eyes. “I took it 10 years ago. In the old way—same as you.”

The old… “You killed your predecessor.”

“I did.” Len dipped his head. “And for much the same reasons. But…I knew what I was getting into. I don’t believe you did.”

Was it that obvious? Well, to anyone who hadn’t been there when a Guild member had moved to give her Darhk’s chain and emblem and Sara, still covered in blood and with a sword in her hand, had recoiled?

There seemed to be no point in denying it, though. “I didn’t.” She tipped her head to him. “In…in most places I’ve been, there would have been a vote after the dust had cleared. I figured I’d just…remove my name from contention. I didn’t realize Centralis went by the old ways.”

There was…no, not sympathy, thank gods…in Len’s eyes. Understanding, though. “Then why,” he asked quietly, “did you do it?”

If he knew as much as he had shown so far, he probably knew this too. But Sara can understand why he would want to hear it from her.

“I walked in on Darhk practicing black magic,” she told him bluntly, folding her arms, watching him carefully. “On three apprentices who’d flubbed a mission. Because of his shoddy training practices and handling of Guild matters, but that didn’t matter to him. He was taking their life energy.” She sighed. “Two of them are dead anyway. We’re not sure about the third.”

He had an excellent card-sharp’s face, did this Leonard, but he either let her see his thoughts or didn’t care to hide them at the moment. Satisfaction, regret, and a cold, cold fury chased each other across his features until they resolved into determination. He stared off into the distance a moment, then nodded firmly and transferred that blue gaze back to Sara.

“The Thieves and Assassins Guild traditionally work together, in most cities,” he told her. “That hasn’t been the case here since I took over--and then refused to deal with Darhk.” He nodded. “I’d be honored to try to reestablish that alliance…with the Guild under you.”

Despite the seriousness, was there something suggestive in that tone, in those words? Oh, Sara thought there was. But to her own surprise, it didn’t anger her or even annoy her, although by all rights the presumption should.

She _liked_ Leonard. Liked him with an instinctive and surprising thoroughness. He had a thief’s caution, but her instincts told her that he’d spoken truth to her and, what was more, shown her truth in his own unconcealed expressions.

She made her decision right then and there. But he didn’t need to know that yet.

Instead, Sara lifted an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know me,” she returned.

A quick smirk, and Len leaned forward. “I’m a very good judge of character,” he drawled.

Sara, trying not to smile, smirked back. “We shall see.”

“I look forward to it.” And then, with a wink, Len rose again to his full height and became serious again. “You know you’ll have to be formally presented to King Hunter and the captains of the Triple Guards,” he told her. “Soon: within the next 48 candlemarks.” He paused. “I’ll sponsor you, if you wish. But if you don’t, they’ll presume you might not be planning to abide by the usual set of rules.”

Sara stared at him, then sighed. She hated court functions. But he didn’t need to know that or how she knew it. “And Darhk did?”

“He knew how to play the game. It gave him a measure of safety.” Len hesitated, eyes still serious. “Trust me when I tell you that Hunter will be pleased. Even a monarch can’t just remove a Guild head. And there had been threats made to his son…”

_Hunter_? Sara didn’t realize she’d murmured the name out loud until Leonard lifted an eyebrow at her. She shook her head. “I’ll never get over just how…how mainstream the so-called Lower Guilds are here,” she told him. “You call the king by his patronym?”

Len’s lips twitched, and Sara saw mischief in his eyes. “Mostly that’s just to annoy him,” he told her. “But, yes.” He shrugged. “Thieves and assassins happen. Especially in any sizable city. Best to have them regulated and trained and policing themselves. It’s worked here for a long, long time.”

“Until a Damien Darhk happens,” Sara reminded him.

Len tipped his head to her. “Until then,” he agreed, then changed the subject. “I’d be honored to sponsor you in front of the king. You took power this morning; if you _are_ going to play by the rules, we should probably go to court tomorrow afternoon, if not tonight.” A look of distaste crossed his features. “I’m not a fan of evening court; too much posturing. Afternoon’s bad enough.”

“Tomorrow is fine.” If she can’t find a way out of this by then, she never will.

“You’ll need court formal garb.” He rather too obviously avoided studying her worn leathers, perfectly serviceable for every day, but hardly impressive.

Sara rolled her eyes, inspecting his own unrelieved black. The starkness of the outfit contrasted with the cut, which she knew perfectly well was tailored and would not have been cheap. Her fellow Guild head knew he looked damned good—and may have been trying to impress her.

“I can handle that,” she informed him. Or, more correctly, Amaya would. “And…thank you. I do appreciate the offer.”

A flicker of something in those amazing eyes again.  “Believe me when I tell you, Sara…” Argh, the way he said her name! “…that it’s my pleasure.”

For all the suggestiveness in the tone, there was a very real thread of sincerity too. Sara dipped her head, agreed to wait here for him at two candlemarks after noon the next day, and watched as he turned for the door.

She didn’t realize that she was going to tell him until she did it.

“Someone put him into power. Darhk,” she said, watching those impressive shoulders under the night-black tunic freeze. “Someone’s been pulling strings. There’s something rotten going on in this city.”

After a long moment, Len looked back at her. “I suspected that,” he said quietly. “But…we’ll talk?”

“Yes.”

And with that, the head of the Centralis Thieves Guild left her office, more questions than answers in his wake. Sara thoughtfully watched him go—and wasn’t ashamed that she admired the ass in those tight black pants—then sank down into the chair with a sigh.

“This is either going to be a lot of fun,” she murmured, thinking of Leonard and his sexy voice and his friendly innuendo. “Or an utter disaster.”


	2. Chapter Two

Leonard hadn’t been expecting a particularly quiet day even before Sara A’Stella had run her sword through Damien Darhk’s heart, and he certainly wasn’t looking at one now. Still, that was a trade he’d gladly make.

Len had ordered Mick to keep his ear to the ground as the news spread, then took himself off to the Mages Guild, either to deliver the news himself or see how Guild Master Harrison Wells was reacting to it. He wasn’t at all surprised to find that the tall, acerbic mage already knew that Darhk was dead—and that a newcomer to the city was behind it—but Wells _hadn’t_ known that Sara had caught Darhk red-handed in black magic.

“We’d both suspected for a while,” he reminded the other man, who was pacing his office, muttering to himself. “That was how we hoped to finally force him out, getting one or more of the guards to catch him in the act.”

Harry frowned at him. “I _do_ remember that,” he retorted, stopping short and folding his arms. “It’s simply…disconcerting…that after all our planning, we hadn’t proven it yet, and then some neophyte…”

Len pointed at him in an admonishing manner, even as the door opened to the side and Wells’ second slipped into the room. “She’s certainly not that,” he said firmly. “New to the city, yes. Not new to the trade and extremely competent, if I’m any judge…”

“And you are…”

“Well, then.” Leonard folded his own arms and glanced over at Caitlin, nodding to her. “So, stop being crabby that you didn’t bring him down yourself and just appreciate the fact that he’s gone.”

“Hear, hear,” Caitlin said drily, looking at her Guild master. “The whole city should be celebrating.”

Harrison grumbled, but nodded, subsiding into his chair. Len grinned at Caitlin, a frost mage who’d taught him a few tricks, as that was where his own meager magical talents lay. (Hence the snowflake on his emblem.) The woman rolled her eyes, but smiled back at him, perching on the other chair in the room and watching Harrison. Len was actually fairly sure the two were lovers, but if they wanted to keep it on the sly, he’d certainly let them.

Yes, Harrison certainly had a certain way of smiling at her, and he was doing it right then. Then he seemed to remember just who was sitting there smirking at them and cleared his throat, looking back to Len.

“The apprentice who survived,” he said formally. “Can we assist?”

Len had been expecting this. He’d made this particular inquiry before he’d come here, in fact.

“The kid’s with the Healers Guild,” he told the mages. “And Lisa said he’s hanging in there.” Len’s sister, once an unwilling apprentice thief, had just made master healer. She’d gone to that Guild after Len…after Len had taken over the Thieves Guild. “But, yes, I think the Guild Master is planning to ask.”

He continued into his next thought immediately, needing to get it out. “Will you be there tomorrow? When Sara meets the king and the captains of the Triple Guard? I said I’d sponsor her, but the more support the better—not that I think Hunter won’t be really pleased at the change.”

Harrison blinked, then sat back a little in his chair as Caitlin made a thoughtful noise. The two exchanged a glance before looking back at Len. ( _Definitely_ lovers, he thought.)

Harrison shook his head. “You _are_ impressed,” he mused. “To sponsor her? Does she know what that _means_?”

Len didn’t respond to the second question, but he did respond to the implied first one. “I am,” he agreed. “And I want to know more about how she knows someone pulled strings to get Darhk into power, which we also suspected. If this will help…”

The men regarded each other for another moment, then both nodded at each other in unison. (Caitlin chuckled in amusement.)

“I’ll be there,” Harrison said curtly. “And I hope you appreciate it, given how much I hate court.”

“You love it,” Len pointed out with a chuckle of his own, rising from the chair. “You go and you’re rude to everyone and no one can do a damned thing about it.”

The other man didn’t dignify that with a response.

* * *

“You need formal court garb.” Amaya’s voice was flat.

“Yep.” Sara didn’t look up from Darhk’s log books. They were meticulous…but not regarding anything he truly should have been concerned about as Guild master. Perhaps she’d only just found herself in this position, but she knew that. Where were the records of each Guild member, their background, rank and training? Of marks taken out and those who’d paid for them? There was one small, locked box in the office that Sara hadn’t managed to open, but it wasn’t nearly big enough for the all the records it would have needed to contain. Why had the king stood for this? Or the Council?

“By tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yep.” Sara sighed, putting the last book down. She was going to have to rebuild this Guild from the ground up. If she couldn’t figure out a way out. “Apparently. So Len said.”

“Oh, it’s Len already, is it?” Amaya shook her head and eyed her friend, folding her arms. “Sara, we can’t get anything made to your size by then. And the odds of finding something already made that suits…well. Not likely.”

Sara considered banging her head against the desk again. “I can’t avoid going to court. Not if I want to start off on the right foot. And I need to do that.” She stood, picking up one of the books. “I need to show that I’m not Darhk. I don’t think I’d even realized just what he’d done to the Guild.” She gave her friend a helpless look. “This isn’t…this isn’t how it should be. I mean, it may not be the highest calling, but…”

Amaya’s eyes flicker in sympathy. “That doesn’t change it.”

“I know, but…” Sara sighed. “Ah, hells. I’ll just wear something…”

But Amaya was looking thoughtful, holding up a hand. “Wait. I know you packed it, when we set out…your…” She waved a hand. “The outfit you said you wore when you were made master. Back in…”

Sara stared at her. “That’s not really court formal,” she said weakly.

Amaya smiled. “But it is lovely. And impressive as hell.” She shrugged. “Begin as you mean to go on.”

Sara considered another moment, then started to smile. “That’s…true. Very true.” She nodded. “OK. It’s hanging in my room.” She could take Darhk’s quarters now…but she wanted to thoroughly fumigate them first. In more ways than one. “Excellent idea.”

“ _Len_ will probably be thoroughly impressed.” Amaya snickered when Sara looked at her. “What? You liked him, didn’t you? I talked a bit with his second. And he does seem to be admirable. As admirable as a thief can be.” A fond look crossed her face. “Mick told me…some interesting stories.”

“Oh, it’s Mick already, is it?” But Sara merely smiled, glad to have one thing settled. There was so much else that wasn’t. “I guess…if I’m going to do anything here at all…I need to start interviewing Guild members and establishing their credentials, etc. I can’t do much about the past, but I can set things up for the future.”

Amaya smiled a little in return. “You’re planning to stay,” she said with certainty. “Good. I rather like it here.”

“Well. I don’t know about that,” Sara hedged, looking down at the book in her hands. “But it seems like the least I can do is get things back in order before I leave.”

“Uh huh.” Amaya sounded amused again. “OK. I’ll get your outfit in order. Do I need to go with you?”

“I…don’t think so?” Sara frowned. “Len didn’t say so.”

“ _Len_ again.” But Amaya simply shook her head. “All right. Remember that you’ll have to deal with the other masters in this Guild eventually. Right now, they’re just plain scared of you, but eventually, someone might think about challenging.”

“Let ‘em try,” Sara muttered, then nodded. “Thanks.” She darted a quick look at her friend. “Dinner later? I think we both need it.”

Amaya agreed, and departed, and Sara sighed yet again, considering all the tasks ahead of her.

So, thinking about what Ra’s at his best would have done, she sat down again and started writing up a code of conduct, and a list of questions to ask her Guild members. It was a start.

* * *

Leonard didn’t have any interviews to do with prospective Guild members that day, so he spent the next bit of time just getting a read on his city. Not as much time as he would have liked…but more than he got some days.

The word about Darhk was getting out, and the reaction was mostly cautious relief. No one liked having that man in charge of a guild that was still regarded warily….and everyone remembered what had happened with Queen Miranda. Darhk and his guild had been cleared of any involvement, but the court of public opinion was still uncertain.

For what it was worth, Len was pretty sure Darhk had had nothing to do with that—or he’d have taken the man out himself, tradition be damned. And Hunter would be been right there with him.

The king as the head of the Assassins Guild? That would be…interesting.

Then it was time for Len’s weekly meeting with Barry A’Cen…well, West, since he’d married the daughter of the captain of the City Guard. Barry was his liaison between the City Guard and the Thieves Guild, a good-hearted and honest man with no reason to love Damien Darhk. Len had actually given serious thought to seducing the fellow before he’d realized that Barry and Iris West were truly a love match, but that didn’t keep him from flirting as much as he could manage.

Odd. He really wasn’t feeling it today. Sara’s face flickered in front of his mind’s eye and Len shook his head violently, clearly it, as he waited in the café, walking a coin through his fingers idly. She was attractive and he was impressed, but that’s all it was…right?

“Leonard!” Barry hustled up, breathless as usual, taking his seat even as Leonard blinked away his other thoughts. “Sorry. Been a busy day.” The younger man looked at him earnestly, even as he reached for the drink Len ordered for him as a matter of course. “The Assassins Guild. You know, of course.”

Len rolled his eyes, transferring the coin to his other hand. “And what does that have to do with you?”

“Well,” Barry looked thoughtful, taking a sip of the ale. “Most everyone’s glad about Darhk—and if someone’s not, that bears looking into, doesn’t it?” He nodded as Leonard’s gaze sharpened. “And we’ve been interviewing people to make sure it really was done according to the rules. Most challenges are in public.”

“And?”

“And everyone says that it was.” Barry nodded again, firmly. “Impromptu, but clean. I don’t know much about the new Guild master yet…”

Leonard leaned back in his chair, smirking. “And what’s that worth to you?” The smirk grew as the younger man actually flushed. Perhaps Len hadn’t made any truly sincere attempts to seduce Barry since his marriage, but he wasn’t above using innuendo and memory to fluster the guard. “Seriously, though, I don’t know a lot, but I do know some. Met with her this morning.”

Barry eyed himself, taking a gulp of his drink. “You work fast.”

“You know it.”

The guard ignored that one. “OK. First, though, let’s get though the usual stuff. Um…you have no one to ransom, but you know that. Any new members to report?”

“Two new apprentices.” Len paused to pass a few papers over. “Their particulars.” He started walking the coin over his knuckles. “Anyone file a grievance?”

Barry chuckled a little as he studied the papers. “Well.” He shook his head. “There’s a merchant from Natione who was traveling with his rare coin collection. And apparently didn’t take warnings about the Thieves Guild here seriously. Or he thought his security measures would be enough.” Another gulp of ale. “Anyway, it vanished, he’s furious, he keeps demanding we get it back.”

“Is that so.”

“So, I have to verify that it was indeed a licensed Guild…” Barry, who’d just glanced up, finally took notice of the coin Len had been toying with. “Len.”

“Barry.”

“Is that an…old Metropolis sovereign?” The tone of the younger man’s voice said perfectly well that he already knew it was.

Len paused to admire the coin. “Yep.”

There was a moment of silence and then Barry sighed theatrically. “So, right,” he said, watching as Len made the coin spin and then vanish. “It _was_ definitely a licensed Guild member.” He shook his head. “You know, most Guild leaders sort of retire from active work when they take over.”

“What fun would that be?” Len smirked and took a sip of his own drink. “Standard rules apply. If he wants to get it back, I can provide him with a ransom assessment. I’d prefer that, actually. Gotta keep the coffers flush.”

“Oh, he’s gonna love that,” Barry muttered, then shook his head again. “OK. So…the new Assassins Guild master?”

“Sara A’Stella,” Leonard took him promptly. “About your age. Master assassin. Started to give another name at first and stopped.” He looked thoughtful. “She may be originally from Stella, but I’d say she hasn’t been back there in a while. Accent wasn’t right.”

“Did she come here to challenge?” Barry asked, learning forward.

“No. She…” Len frowned at him then. “Am I telling the guard liaison this, or the husband of a bard?”

The members of the Bards Guild weren’t just singers—in fact, those who were primarily performers had their own guild entirely. The bards were the information spreaders of the city and the kingdom. And Iris West was a good one.

Barry looked offended. “You know that Iris wouldn’t repeat something without verifying it.”

“Gotcha.” Well, better that Iris start off with information he knew to be true—for Sara’s sake. Len shrugged and settled in to tell the story. “She walked in on Darhk practicing black magic…”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see what Sara's outfit looks like, search for "white Mord Sith cosplay." :) Thanks, Pir8grl!

In her first full day as head of the Centralis Assassins Guild, Sara hit the ground running. She’d spent much of the previous late afternoon and evening establishing what she thought were decent Guild rules and piecing together a roll of Guild members that was as current as she could figure.

It seemed rather like Darhk, distracted by his other “experiments,” had largely been letting anyone into the Guild who could pay the fee—and then ignoring any training, ransoms, or grievances. Only a basic lack of ambition on the part of the more experienced Guild members—and, Sara thought, a lack of competence on the part of the less experienced ones—had kept things from getting so bad that the king would have had to act.

Although she knew, as did everyone, that King Hunter had rarely made any sort of decisive move since the death of Queen Miranda three years ago. Something the Assassins Guild had been cleared of.

Despite the name of the Guild, killing wasn’t all members did. They were saboteurs and personal guards of a very particular and expensive sort, licensed to kill in the name of protecting their charges. Sometimes the crown hired them, when it was on good terms with the Guild, something that was distinctly not the case now.

Well, if Sara had anything to say about it, that would become the case again.

She frowned down at the letters from other Assassins Guild leaders in other cities, all sent to Darhk…and found, tossed in a pile near his desk, unopened. The latest was dated a few years back. Apparently, the other Guild leaders had eventually just stopped trying to deal with him.

It would have been nice to know that before she’d come here. She couldn’t believe Ra’s hadn’t known.

But maybe he had.

One letter, from a source that had taken great pains to conceal their identity, had delivered word that an out-kingdom agent had arrived in Centralis for “a job.” The wording was quite imprecise, and Sara couldn’t ascertain if it was meant to be a job of assassination or a job of protection—but it was clear that the writer expected Darhk to be displeased about it. Interesting. She checked the date and was frankly relieved to find that it had been after—although not long after—Queen Miranda’s death.

Still. Sara decided to keep this particular information close to her vest for a while. Just in case.

She’d already decided not to unload all her planned changes and the new Guild requirements and rules until after the royal audience, although she had asked Amaya to make it clear through the usual chain of information that there would be a full Guild meeting later. With any luck, after she was able to get changed. She really didn’t want to get blood on her good outfit.

She was expecting at least one challenger. She wasn’t overly worried about that.

Sara was puzzling over another letter, this one from even further back and even more cryptic, when Amaya rapped on the door, then stuck her head inside. “You might want to start getting ready,” the other woman said with amusement. “Isn’t your date picking you up soon?”

“ _Not_ a date,” Sara said automatically, turning to look at the timepiece on her desk. “Oh, hells!” She launched herself up to her feet, sitting the letter on her desk. “Can you help me with my hair? It won’t take me long to get dressed, and I had a good long soak earlier.” She still didn’t feel completely clean.

“Of course.” Amaya held the door as Sara darted out of the office and down to her room in the Guild hall, where she’d already taken out her investiture armor and the items that she planned to wear with it today. She took a deep breath and regarded the outfit, a piece of a former life in more ways than one, but certainly a statement in and of itself.

“Well,” she said quietly, reading out to run her fingers over the white leather. “We’ll see who knows what this means.” A smile drifted over her face. “This…should be interesting.”

* * *

Leonard would admit that he liked to cut a fine figure in his clothing, especially at court. Oh, he wasn’t a total peacock—he liked his blacks and dark, rich blues, thank you very much. But costly materials, well-made pieces and skillful decoration were things he was willing (and able, these days) to pay for.

Today, he was wearing a midnight blue velvet doublet, embroidered in silver with an abstract pattern that he liked to think evoked snowflakes, over black velvet breeches. His Guild emblem was around his neck on its platinum chain, and a long midnight blue velvet cape was swirling from his shoulders. And as the carriage he’d commissioned pulled up outside the Assassins Guild hall, just over the short bridge linking it to Guild Row proper, he got out knowing that he looked damned good indeed.

And then he set eyes on Sara A’Stella as she emerged from the hall to meet him.

Like when he’d met her the day before, her golden hair was in braids that were meticulously arranged about her head, shining like more expensive forms of personal adornment. But gone were the worn and serviceable grayish leathers. She looked…she looked…

Well, she looked gorgeous. And deadly. Both, beautiful as a well-honed knife blade and as lethal.

Tight white leather—a catsuit, he thought, and the notion made his mouth run dry—hugged every curve of her body, fitting like a second skin. Over that was leather armor, beautifully tooled with stylized shapes that, he realized as he drew closer, were birds. She wore an intricate neck collar, a corset with silver buckles and lacing, and a tooled leader belt—without sheathes, as they weren’t supposed to carry weapons in audience with the king, although Len wouldn’t bet at all that she didn’t have knives secreted somewhere on her person.

Where, he didn’t dare guess.

A heavy, slit-sided white silk skirt, just short enough to be unfashionable by current court mores but also short enough to fight in without tripping, swirled around her legs, and she wore white boots instead of the point-toed shoes so many of the court ladies wore. Len ripped his gaze away from her legs and looked up at Sara’s amused face as she watched him in return.

It wasn’t, by most lights, full court formal. But it was thoroughly, incredibly _her_.

And if he didn’t miss his mark, it was the armor of a Nanda Parbat-trained assassin. And better not to chase that detail down right now.

“You,” he said respectfully, bowing to the perfect level, one Guild master to another, “look incredible.”

Sara curtsied in turn. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she murmured, running an appreciative eye over him. “Suits you.”

“Why thank you, my lady.” Len smirked at her, then suddenly realized what was missing from her outfit. “Ah…you do have Darhk’s emblem?” It was just a piece of jewelry, really, but if someone else showed up with it, they could make a play for the Guild by introducing an element of doubt into things. And no one needed that.

But Sara nodded, putting a hand on her belt pouch—one that, Leonard was glad to see, had the sort of latch even the most skillful thief would have trouble popping before she noticed. (Ah, now, there was a challenge...) “I don’t like wearing the thing,” she muttered. “It makes a shiver run down my spine whenever I put it on. I’ll hold onto it until I get my own made…or something…but I’m not wearing it.”

Or something? Len nodded in understanding, though, then turned to offer her his arm. “Shall we go?” he said with a courtly nod. “I’m a fan of making an entrance, but best not to be late today.”

Sara laughed, a lovely low ripple of amusement that made gooseflesh run up Len’s arms…and made other body parts take notice too. (As if the tight leather wasn’t enough.) She took his arm, though, giving him a sparkling smile, and he smiled back as he led her to the carriage.

Oh…hells.

* * *

Well, no matter how the court reacted to her outfit, Sara decided a little smugly, the head of the Thieves Guild was certainly impressed.

Still, despite the clear admiration—and attraction, she’s pretty sure—in his eyes, he hadn’t taken any liberties, not physical (well, he wouldn’t have held his Guild for this long if he was that stupid) but also not any other kind. He’d dialed the personal regard back nearly immediately when they’d taken their seats, going thoroughly professional and telling her a bit about other Guild masters and people she might see at court.

Sara appreciated that professionalism and regretted it both—it’d been a long, long time since she’d taken even a casual lover, and she’s pretty sure Len would be an excellent one in many ways. Still, for now, professionalism was best.

In a bit of silence, she found herself studying the Guild emblem he was wearing, the key of the Thieves Guild carved into a large, deep blue sapphire shaped, a bit, like a snowflake.

“Where did you get yours made?” she asked suddenly, leaning forward to study it a little. “Is there an artisan who has the contract for them?”

Len tilted his head at her, then looked out the window as the carriage crossed the bridge into the noble district. Then he glanced back. “No one in particular,” he said casually, leaning back against the seat, “but there’s a fellow in the Artificers Guild, oddly enough, who made this one and a few others in recent years. He does good work. I can put you in touch with him.”

Sara nodded, still studying the emblem. “Why a snowflake?”

That got a quiet laugh, and Len held out a hand. The light glinted off a small silver ring on his little finger, but Sara was immediately distracted by something else: the shining white of frost as it crept over his hand. Then Len snapped his fingers, and the air inside the carriage was briefly full of sparkling ice crystals, so small that they barely affected anything when they melted.

Sara smiled at the display, then gave Len an inquiring look. His smile was swift but oddly conflicted.

“I don’t have much magic,” he told her, settling back again. “Just enough for little stuff like that. But…let’s just say that…” A longer pause. “…that my father frowned on using it at all. So, celebrating it…it’s worth doing for more than one reason.”

There’s a story there, Sara was certain, but she let it go for the moment. “I wonder,” she said instead, thoughtfully. “I don’t know what I’d use. Just a round stone with the Guild’s knife symbol would work. Moonstone, maybe.”

Leonard regarded her. “Darhk had a really dark ruby, didn’t he?” he mused. “Nearly black. Odd shape.”

Leave it to the thief to recognize and remember that. Sara put a hand to her belt pouch. “Yeah.”

“Can I…see it?”

She knew he didn’t want the Guild…neither did she, Sara reminded herself…so, after a moment, she reached into the pouch, pulling out the damned thing by the chain, not the stone, and extended it toward him.

Len studied it a moment, then reached out and, before she could say anything more, grasped the stone itself. He shuddered nearly immediately, fingers contracting, but he didn’t let go. Sara, suddenly concerned, kept her hold on the chain, watching his expression.

It was only another moment before he let go, though, recoiling from the thing and shaking his head.

“Harrison Wells, the head of the Mages Guild, promised to be here today. I recommend you let him have a look at that,” he said, wiping his head on the seat cushion as if it was physically dirty. “And get your own made as soon as possible, so you can get rid of it. I’ll introduce you to Cisco.” His lips twitched. “He’s a pain, but he does good work.”

Sara, wondering, nodded. A moment later, Len met her eyes again, a question in his own.

“What you said before, about someone pulling strings to get Darhk into power…” he asked delicately. “What did you mean?”

Sara considered him, then nodded. “He wasn’t shy about it, within the Guild,” she told Len. “In fact, I think he thought this ‘sponsor’ of his would be enough to keep him in power even as he completely neglected his Guild duties and pursued…other interests.”

Len’s eyes went distant before he shook his head and focused on her again. “Any clue who it was?”

“Not really. Someone powerful, though, in terms of the city.” Sara drummed her fingers on the door. “He said I’d regret it…even as I ran my sword through his heart.” She gave Len a small smile. “I can’t say I wanted to end up as Guild head…but beyond that, I haven’t regretted it at all.”

* * *

Neither did Leonard.

But abruptly, he was rather afraid for this beautiful, amazing woman who done such an incredible thing. He barely knew her…but he didn’t want her dead. Or harmed. In any way. And, oh holy hells, he wanted her to stay here in the city, so he could learn more about her. So they could…

Conflicted, Len glanced away, feeling Sara’s eyes on him, then back. “Be careful,” he said quietly. “If Darhk thought that was the case…he was probably right. He wouldn’t have been that bold if he wasn’t sure of his patron.” He shrugged. “He wasn’t stupid. Just evil. Sara…”

She was looking right at him, a question in her eyes, and it was probably ridiculous, but…

“They could go after you,” he said, then repeated: “Be _careful_.”

Sara studied him a moment, then actually reached out to put a gentle hand on his arm. Even Len, as touch-shy as he tended to be, smiled a little at that, then looked up to meet her eyes again.

However, Sara’s tiny smile in response held no humor at all. In fact, it sent a chill down Leonard’s spine…not entirely an unenjoyable chill, but that was entirely based on his own predilection for danger in attractive packages.

Damn.

“Let them try,” she said quietly.

* * *

Even after Sara had set back in her seat, glancing out the window as they neared the palace, Leonard was still looking at her with…trepidation?...in his eyes. She was glad to see that it was mingled with the respect and attraction from before, but the edge that bordered on fear—that was bad.

She sighed, inwardly. She’d had the bloodlust tamed for a while now, but sometimes vestiges still flickered, and then all too often, it’d be on to another kingdom, another city. Leaving behind people who could have been friends, could have been colleagues…or lovers.

Len cleared his throat, then, and Sara glanced back at him. To her surprise, the hesitation was gone from his eyes. In fact, the bastard was smirking at her. She blinked.

Still smirking.

Lasciviously.

So he _liked_ dangerous people, did he? She could work with that.

Sara smirked back a little. “Tell me,” she said, as the carriage halted in a line of others waiting to drop off their passengers. “Are the stories true? About King Hunter?”

Len shrugged. “The ones about how his father sent him away for his own protection as a kid?” he drawled. “And about how he was kidnapped and grew up on the streets as a cutpurse before the old king finally found him?”

“Those ones, yes.” Sara smoothed her skirt and obtrusively, she thought, made sure her weapons were still in place.

“No idea.”

Sara eyed him, noting the far-too-innocent look in his eyes and the smirk lingering on his lips. “Right. And is that how the head of a Thieves Guild became such good friends with a monarch?”

“Perhaps…”

But then the door was opening, and Sara, with one last amused glare at the smirking thief, allowed the footman to take her hand and help her out into the courtyard.

Leonard promptly followed, holding out his arm again with alacrity, almost as if he wanted to make sure she didn’t go missing. Whether that was because he wanted her company or because he thought she’d get into trouble, Sara wasn’t sure. Both, maybe.

Probably.

It was a lovely, sunny day, although it was cool—fortunately. Sara, taking Len’s arm, studied the courtyard and the other people there. No one was taking much notice of her yet, even in her leather armor. Well, maybe the visible absence of a Guild emblem helped, for now.

It was good to see that Leonard had a similar reaction to Darhk’s stone. Amaya had refused to even touch it. Sara tapped her belt pouch thoughtfully. She’d be curious what the Mages Guild head said, especially since Len had vouched for him. She’d already decided that it might be important to keep this thing out of the wrong hands.

Sara was no mage, but it felt like more than just a Guild emblem.

Len’s arm tightened on hers as they started through the massive, scarred wood doors flanked by sober guardsmen. Sara glanced up at him, noting how serious he looked suddenly. She glanced around as they entered the palace, crossing quickly to the main hall, where Leonard explained to a herald who they were and why they were there, and Sara did the traditional bearing of her forearms to show that she (supposedly) had no weapons and had no intent to kill. Ah. People were starting to take notice of her.

It was a tall, frowning man in well-cut but otherwise nondescript clothing that first sidled up to them. Sara, bemused, noted the Guild emblem around his neck—and took the initiative.

“Master Harrison Wells, I presume?” she asked, pulling Len to the side. “A pleasure.”

The tall man lifted an eyebrow, visibly amused. He looked at her, then at Len, who smirked. Then back at her.

“Master Sara A’Stella,” he said in a dry voice. “Indeed. A pleasure.” He reached out and took her hand, bowing over it in a way that, much to Sara’s own amusement, made Leonard frown. “You’ve managed something that many of us hadn’t, despite quite a bit of trying.”

Len cleared his throat, then, glancing around at the many people entering the hall around them. Harrison ignored him. So did Sara.

“You’re welcome,” she told him, just as drily, reclaiming her hand.

Harrison nodded to her. “I suppose that now, seeing this…” He rather obviously looked her over, and Len sighed, and Sara smirked. “…I can understand how.” The eyebrow lifted again. “The League.”

Len went still then, and Sara knew that he had, indeed, recognized her armor. A flicker of regret went through her, but then…he hadn’t treated her any differently.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“And there is a story, I’m sure.”

“Yes.” She smiled at him, nearly against her will. “But not for now.”

Then Leonard was guiding her onward, through the main hall, toward the front. There was no one on the now-single throne there, but that wasn’t really surprising. Sara grinned at Harrison over her shoulder but allowed herself to be led farther into the hall.

Oh, yes. Eyes were upon her. Sara smiled undiscriminating around, trying to mix cheerful competence with “don’t fuck with me” badassery. It seemed to work, given how many people stopped in their tracks or pulled back. She could deal with that.

Len tugged her gently aside near the front, sighing. He gave her a little sidelong smirk, but she could see the calculation beneath his eyes as he did so.

“When the king gets here,” he said quietly, as people murmured and whispered around them, “you’ll be one of the first people he acknowledges, if not the first. I’m not sure how that will go, but…he’s not an enemy, I can assure you of that.”

Sara nodded, watching him and the rest of the hall at the same time…if that was even possible. As much as possible, anyway.

Leonard was doing much the same thing. He frowned as he seemed to focus on some people, almost smiled as he saw others. Then he looked at her again.

“I’m not sure who among the other Guild masters will be here,” he said quietly. “All three captains of the Triple Guard will be. And…” A quick frown, so quick that she almost didn’t see it. “…the head of the King’s Council, at the very least. Maybe the Lord General. Others.”

Sara eyed him thoughtfully. “Interesting,” she mused. “You like…more or less…the Guard captains. But not the head of the Council.”

Len was still watching the throng around them. He didn’t argue. “No surprise there.”

“That the head of the Thieves Guild would get along with the captains of the Guard? Isn’t it?”

A lengthy pause, and then he smirked again, looking at her. “Well, they know me, I know them. We play by the rules. Mostly.”

Sara acknowledged that with a tip of her head. “And the Council?”

Leonard frowned…and then wiped his face clear of any expression whatsoever as a smooth voice behind them said, “Well. This is an…intriguing… surprise.”

Sara, truly not an amateur in games of power, barely reacted. Instead, she lifted an eyebrow, turning slightly, smoothly. “And have we met?”

Leonard turned with her. “Zaman Druce,” he said, in a slightly amused tone that utterly contradicted his expression before. “Head of the Council.”


	4. Chapter Four

Zaman Druce, a richly dressed older man, frowned at him, then looked back at Sara, who figured that she should probably curtsy.

So she didn’t. She’d learned, over the years, to trust her instincts when it came to people like this, and if she made Druce an enemy—so be it. She had an odd, strong feeling that he was anyway.

She did incline her head and then offered him a hand. Druce stared at it as if it was a snake, lip curled.

“Sara A’Stella. Head of the Assassins Guild,” Len told the man, then tilted his head as if in surprise. “Ah. You were…friendly, in a way…with Damien Darhk, weren’t you? I’m sorry.”

His tone said that he was rather the opposite. Sara let a smile touch her lips in a way that showed she agreed. Druce’s eyes narrowed.

“I would not say ‘friendly,’” he said shortly. “Darhk was…useful.” He stared at Sara, who saw him take in her armor, although she couldn’t say for sure that he knew what it meant. “Time will show, I suppose, if you are, as well. I rather doubt it.”

On the surface, it was rather an insult. Under that surface, Sara heard a threat. She met the man’s eyes, and for just a moment, let all that she was capable of—and yes, a hint of the bloodlust that still coiled within—show in her own.

Druce actually took a step back. Sara felt Leonard twitch besides her, as if he was holding in laughter—or a cheer—but she kept her eyes on the other man.

Begin as you mean to go on.

Finally, Druce shook his head, then turned abruptly, as if determined to end the interaction just as rudely and on his terms. But Len didn’t let him.

“Oh, and Druce?” he called lightly, after the man had taken only one step away. “You dropped this.”

He hadn’t dropped anything. Still, Len was extending a small eating knife in a jeweled sheath toward him, a seemingly friendly smile on his face. Druce, who’d turned almost involuntarily, stared at it, then frowned, snatching it back and spinning again to stalk away.

Len and Sara watched him go. After a moment, Sara turned and eyed Leonard, who shook himself, as if settling the ruffled feathers he hadn’t shown before.

“I despise him,” he told her shortly. “He’s a symbol of so many things I hate. And…”

“…and it’s mutual.”

They both turned, but Sara took her cue, again, from Len, who didn’t show any alarm. A man about Sara’s age, brown-haired, lanky, and wearing a friendly grin and a City Guard uniform, watched them. He bowed to Sara, then, the right depth for a mid-level Guild member to any Guild head, and Sara inclined her head in response.

“Barry West,” Len said with a put-upon sigh that didn’t fool Sara for a moment. “City Guard investigator and liaison to the Thieves and Assassins Guilds.” He winked at Sara. “They had to name a different liaison to the Prostitutes Guild. He gets too flustered.”

“Hey!” Barry protested, although the faint flush on his cheeks confirmed Len’s words better than any words could. “It’s a full-time job as it is, keeping an eye on you.” He flushed even more as Len smirked at him. “You know what I mean. Um. Anyway, pleased to meet you,” He smiled at Sara again, and she couldn’t help smiling in response. Barry was just that kind of guy. “In the next few days, we’ll set up a meeting schedule for reports and stuff. OK?” A shadow crossed his eyes. “Darhk had completely stopped before…well, before you. The records are probably a mess.”

“They are,” Sara told him fervently. “I’m doing my best at getting things together.”

Barry beamed at her. “The mere fact that you’re trying is a really good thing,” he told her sincerely, then looked up. “Hells! Gotta go. Good luck, Sara!”

The man hurried off to talk to another man standing near the throne, drawing a chuckle from Len and a smile from Sara. “Is he always so…” she asked Len, uncertain how to end the question. Earnest? Cheerful? Frazzled?

Len snorted. “Yes. Sometimes more so,” he told her, smirking as he glanced around. “Barry’s wife, Iris West—he took her patronym as it’s higher rank—is a master bard. Ah, and the daughter of the captain of the City Guard.” He nodded at the man by the throne. “And that’s a sign that things are about to get started. Do you…”

But Sara had already glanced upward at a faint sound from up in the rafters, frowning. It’d sounded like wings, but not those of a mere pigeon or a crow. Much…larger…

She barely managed to restrain herself from pulling one of her hidden knives as two large shapes swooped downward, one from one side of the room, backwinging to land precisely on either side of the throne. Sara let out a long breath once they did, then gave Leonard a long look. He actually looked a bit sheepish—well, at least he hadn’t been trying to surprise her.

“I didn’t know the captains of the royal guard were…”

“Avians?” Len nodded. “Carter is the head of the king’s guard; Kendra is the head of the queen’s,” he said quietly. “And, yes, it still exists. It’s just mostly merged with the king’s guard, now.” He shook his head. “They nearly died when…when the queen did; in fact, I hear Carter did technically die for a few moments before the healers brought him back.”

Sara watched the two winged figures, members of a race that usually lived high in the Thanagarian Mountains to the north. “That’s hard.”

“Yes.” But Len’s eyes tracked to a doorway on the far right side of the room. “And there’s the seneschal,” he said. “Soon, now.”

The brown-haired woman, clad all in gray, paused by the herald who was at attention there and surveyed the room. Sara studied her, curious, then looked back at Len.

“Gideon Waverider,” he clarified, reading her look correctly. “She’s from a land to the south, across the sea, where they use that kind of personal surname, though I don’t know how she got that one.” He sighed. “The old seneschal was another casualty of the attack on the palace. She arrived not long after.”

“Oh?”

Leonard smiled a little at the tone and the expression on Sara’s face. “Honestly, she was thoroughly vetted and vouched for first. We’re not that careless here. She’s a little…standoffish, I suppose…to most people, but we get along, and she’s excellent at her job.” He tilted his head. “I see the prince isn’t attending court today. If he does, she’s always by his side.”

Sara nodded thoughtfully, wondering…but then the herald pounded his staff on the ground, and the crowd around the great hall quieted, all looking toward the throne.

“His Royal Majesty, King Michael Hunter of the Five Cities,” the herald announced, voice ringing through the enormous room.

Sara wasn’t sure what she’d expected of the king. But it wasn’t this sad-eyed, brown-haired, thin man in the long, plain, brown robe. She watched as he paused to say something quietly to the seneschal, Gideon, a smile actually flickering across his face, then walked toward the throne.

Len sighed. “He hates ‘Michael,’” he said quietly in her ear. “During his cutpurse days in Londinium, he was ‘Rip.’” He shook his head. “He took ‘Hunter” as the name of his line instead of ‘Gold” as a little bit of a…criticism…of his father. Long story.”

Hunter reached the throne then and took his seat, reaching up to touch the golden circlet on his head as if he’d forgotten it was there. He smiled again, just a little, as the seneschal took up a spot at his right hand, then looked out into the hall, face falling into its former expression of thoughtful melancholy.

Len extended his arm to Sara again, and she took it.

Showtime.

The herald stepped forward again, raising his voice. “Court is open!” A pause. “Leonard A’Centralis, head of the Thieves Guild,” he announced into the sudden hush, “sponsoring…Sara A’Stella, newly made head of the Assassins Guild.”

If anyone hadn’t heard before this—unlikely, Sara supposed—they surely knew now. Voices rose around them as she and Leonard walked toward the throne, stopping at precisely the correct distance from it. Len released her arm then, bowing low, Guild head to monarch, and maybe only Sara saw the smirk he flashed the other man as he rose.

No, actually, she was pretty sure Gideon saw it too. The seneschal smiled as well.

“Your majesty,” Leonard told the king, “on my honor as the head of my Guild, my skills as a master thief and my loyalty as a son of Centralis, I present Sara…the head of the Assassins Guild through the death, by her hand, of Damien Darhk, and her rank as a master assassin.”

The buzz grew louder, and Sara drew a deep breath. But before she could approach the throne and take the next step, a disapproving voice rose over the noise, cutting through it like a knife in the night.

Zaman Druce stepped forward, next to a man in metal armor with the carrying of a military leader. He flicked a dismissive glance at Sara and Len, then looked at the king, lip curled again as if he’d smelled something foul. Hunter regarded him with an expression so blank that Sara was somewhat impressed, but that didn’t stop Druce from speaking.

“Your majesty,” he said smoothly, “do we truly trust in the…honor…of a thief? Do we take the word of a criminal, a man who killed his own father?” He looked right at the tense Leonard, then, as Sara considered those words, and right at her. “And…she does not even wear the emblem of the Assassins Guild! Do we have a witness? Or did one of them simply knife Damien Darhk in the night and expect us to buy this only-too-obvious lie? Does she not have a better witness? Any true witness at all?”

Sara, who frankly hadn’t expected her word to be questioned and who planned to deal with the relative loyalty of her Guild masters later, lifted her chin and stared back at him, then reached into her belt pouch and pulled out Darhk’s emblem, lifting the dark ruby on its golden chain high into the air—well, as high as she could manage.

“A master of the Assassins Guild presented me with this while it was still marked with blood warm from Darhk’s dead body,” she told Druce coldly, holding his eyes and allowing her own ire and disgust to show. “You question my honor? I, a…” Well, in for a penny. “…a daughter of Stella and Nanda Parbat, trained and sealed to the League of Assassins?”

Druce’s eyes widened as the room grew even louder, then narrowed. Sara flicked a glance sideways at Len and saw a tiny smile on his face, for her, at least. But his eyes were focused on Druce, and they were frigid.

“Then, why are you here?” the lord asked then, recovering a little. “The League does not release what it holds.”

“It released me.” Sara’s chin went up. “I am the keeper of my honor, and if you…”

But before she could make what would almost certainly be a big mistake, another voice rose, and everyone turned to look at the woman in blue who’d approached the throne from the other side. (Hunter, Sara noticed, looked decidedly weary of all the theatrics.)

“I, Iris West, so swear on my honor as a master bard,” said the dark woman in blue, pitching her voice in the way of a trained speaker. “I’ve interviewed those who were there, ascertained that they told me the truth by the traditions of my Guild. Sara A’Stella earned the Guild through the old ways, by challenge, combat and death.” She inclined her head. “You may question me if you wish, your majesty.” Then she flicked a challenging glance back at the head of the Council. “Do you doubt _my_ honor, Lord Druce?”

Sara decided, immediately, that she really liked this Iris.

But Druce didn’t get a chance to respond, because the king did.

“That will not be necessary, Master Bard,” he said firmly, ignoring Druce, then looked at Sara. ““You may approach the throne, Master Assassin.”

The buzz became louder, and Sara saw the king’s lips twitch. He met her eyes and she was surprised to see both amusement and relief in them as he nodded to her. Sara took his measure in that moment, grief and strength, determination and intelligence, and made one of the split-second decisions that had been both her downfall and one of her greatest strengths in past years.

Stepping forward, just one step, she held out her arms to show her lack of weapons, then swept a low curtsy—and then straightened and flourished one of her previously hidden knives in a move so fast that the guards didn’t even get a chance to start forward before she’d spun it, carefully grasping the blade just hard enough to open a thin line on her palm before stepping forward and holding the hilt out to the king.

“Your majesty,” she said in a carrying tone, “my blade is yours, should you need it.”

And just like that, she’d committed to staying here, too. Because the rudimentary ceremony she’d just carried out was an old one, ancient and near-holy, originating in Nanda Parbat with the League of Assassins, the group that’d saved her and trained her and…oh, so much more.

It wasn’t quite true fealty. But she’d declared that not only would she not work against the king in any way, he could call on her to lend her skills, should he need them. The skills of a former member of the League of Assassins, something very few monarchs over the years could claim—almost none, in fact.

Hunter meet her eyes, then nodded again, reaching out to take the blood-stained knife even as guards surged forward, surrounding them, and the horrified noise from the crowd rose higher. The king waved them off, while Sara didn’t move a muscle until they pulled back. Then she nodded once and stepped back herself, folding her right hand into a fist to stop the slight bleeding, ignoring the sting.

The king looked at the blade, then nodded again. Sara wasn’t sure he truly understood…but she thought he might.

“Sara A’Stella is confirmed as the new head of the Centralis Guild of Assassins,” he said in his weary, amused voice. “Now…”

And then Len had Sara’s arm again, walking her backward in a determined fashion. Sara wondered what he thought she was doing to do next, but she let him. They melted into the crowd despite all the eyes upon them, and Len kept going until they were outside the great hall, guards watching them closely and with great curiosity. Then he leaned against the wall and signed, running a hand over his short hair and closing his eyes. Sara watched him with amusement.

“Isn’t it considered a little tacky to leave court before it’s over?” she asked quietly.

Len eyed her. “Under most circumstances,” he drawled. “However, just now, discretion seemed the better part of valor.” He shook his head. “They could have run you through before you blinked…”

“Oh no they couldn’t have,” Sara told him with a touch of arrogance.

“Still.” He gave himself a shake of sorts, straightening his clothing, then regarded her with blue eyes that held a mix of disbelief and amazement. “Did that…thing with the knife…mean what I think it meant?”

Sara considered. “Probably.”

Len studied her, then nodded. “Then…you’re staying.”

“I am.” Did he sound pleased? She thought he sounded pleased.

“Excellent.” A smirk touched his lips, and he sketched a bow to her. “I _am_ looking forward to continuing our…alliance, Master Assassin.” Definite innuendo in the tone. Well, at least he’d recovered quickly.

Sara smirked back, “As am I, Master Thief.”

“A- _hem_.” They both turned to see Harrison Wells watching them with a sardonic smile. He shook his head once he saw he had their attention, strolling forward to join them.

“That was _quite_ a performance, Master Assassin,” he told Sara drily. “No one will forget the beginning of this court session for a long time.” His gaze transferred to Len. “Especially Zaman Druce.”

Leonard rolled his eyes and started to retort, but Sara, recalled to something she’d been thinking earlier, suddenly stopped, reaching into her belt pouch and pulling out Darhk’s emblem.

“I was wondering,” she asked quickly, “if you might have a look at this.” She shrugged as the mage lifted an eyebrow. “I’m going to have my own made, very soon, I hope. But this…it doesn’t feel right. Whether that’s dark magic or something else, I don’t know.”

Harrison shrugged, then held out a hand for the stone, which Sara deposited promptly in his hand.

The mage sucked in a quick breath immediately, his fingers twitching around the ruby and a look of amazement and disgust crossing his face. After only a moment, he grabbed the emblem’s chain with his other hand, releasing the stone to swing free without touching skin. Leonard and Sara exchanged a glance.

“That thing reeks of necromancy,” Harrison said, looking like he wanted to wipe his hand off the same way Leonard had. “I haven’t felt a taint that strong…in a good long time.” He glanced at Leonard. “You felt that?”

The thief shrugged. “Apparently I have enough magic for that,” he said, glancing at Sara. “I thought you said you didn’t? Have any magic?”

Sara frowned at the stone. “I don’t. None at all.” A suspicion rose in her thoughts, and she cleared her throat. “Just sensitive to it, I guess.”

Harrison studied her another moment, but to Sara’s great relief, apparently chose to let it go. He handed the chain, somewhat fastidiously, back to Sara, who tucked the whole thing back into her belt pouch.

“Keep it until you have yours,” the mage instructed. “Then, would you please bring it by the Mages Guild hall? I’d like to see if I can figure out what Darhk was doing with it.” A shadow crossed his eyes as he looked at Leonard. “We’ve suspected for quite some time that he’d been up to, well, far more than even what you caught him in. But this…I wonder.”

Sara, intrigued, nodded. Harrison nodded back, to her and to Len, then sauntered back outside, presumably to head back to his hall.

And, finally, they could do the same.


	5. Chapter Five

He was, Leonard thought, getting too old for this shit.

But then he glanced across the carriage at Sara, who was looking out the window thoughtfully. And he thought of her response to Druce, of her poise in front of the king, of the gesture that he was pretty sure most of the room hadn’t recognized the significance of.  And…well, maybe not. Maybe he wanted to hang around. If only to see what she did next.

She turned her head and noticed his regard, then smiled at him, an impish expression that made his stomach—or something—do a little flip-flop. Len cleared his throat, then smiled back.

He was trying to decide whether to extend a dinner invitation to her, though, when he saw her expression change from smiling to thoughtful, her eyes still focused on him. And it didn’t take too much to realize what she was thinking of.

Len sighed. “What Druce said?” he asked. “In court? Is that what you want to ask me?”

Sara tipped her head to the side but didn’t deny it. “Is it true?” she asked. “Did you kill your father?”

Lewis will never stop haunting him. “It’s true.” He shrugged a little, settling back against the seat. “He was the Guild head before me.”

Len darted a glance at her, but while her gaze was intent, there was no judgment in it. “I told you that I did it for much the same reasons you did,” he told her. “That’s true. Lewis…he’d stopped doing his job as Guild head—if he ever really did it. He collected money from half-trained apprentices and then set them loose on jobs in which he knew they’d be killed or captured. He refused to ransom anyone, claiming that he wouldn’t put up with ‘incompetence.’” He sighed. “He held the Guild to none of the rules that exist for both our protection and the protection of the rest of the city. And he forced my younger sister into the Thieves Guild even though she’d showed talent as a healer. That’s just the start of my reasons for killing him.”

Sara nodded. “Sounds like Darhk,” she said quietly.

Len laughed, a sound without humor. “Well, he sponsored Darhk before the court, when Darhk took over the Assassins Guild,” he told her. “They were friends as much as Lewis was friends with anyone, though that’s not saying much.” He paused. “Sponsoring you today was a little bit of a step toward righting more of his wrongs.”

Sara studied him, then, unexpectedly, smiled again. “I hope that wasn’t all it was.”

“Not at all. I…”

The carriage shuddered--and someone screamed outside. Leonard closed his eyes and cursed, then opened them to find Sara hanging out the carriage door, looking around as the carriage shuddered again and slowed down dramatically, nearly to a stop.

“Probably not a good idea!” he yelled, reaching back and pulling his cape off. If he needed to fight, he didn’t need it tripping him up. He’d guess that, from the roughness of the ride, one of the wheels was gone.

Sara pulled her head back into the carriage. “We’re being attacked,” she said grimly, then reached down to give her skirt a good yank. The white fabric released quickly, much like his cape, and she pulled it off, leaving her simply in the white catsuit and armor--and Leonard suddenly had to tell his libido that now was _not_ the time, thank you very much. No wonder she’d worn the skirt over it.

“Who?” He reached under the seat and pulled his sheathed sword out from under it. He wasn’t a great swordsman, but he could do some damage if given the opportunity.

“Four horsemen and a few on foot, including an archer. Sort of circling us. They could have closed in by now, but they haven’t. They want something.” Sara was frowning. “The City Guard…”

“We’re probably in that lovely zone between the palace environments and the city proper where patrols can get scanty.” Leonard cursed again, then, taking a good grip on the door frame, prepared to shove the other carriage door open. “If we make it through this, I need to have another word with the Guard captains!”

Sara laughed a little wildly. “Isn’t that a little against your own guild’s, ah, agenda?”

“Not when people are trying to kill me here, it’s not!” Leonard shook his head. “I’m going to tell the driver to run. He’s just a hired hand; he doesn’t deserve this. You should…”

“Can I have that?” Sara reached out and plucked the sheathed sword from his grip. “Thanks. I have knives all over the place in this getup, but a full sword is a little too much to hide.”

How the hell did she fit multiple knives in that thing? Leonard didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Sara laughed again.

“Maybe,” she drawled, winking at him, “I’ll show you at some point.”

And with that, she’d pushed up the other carriage door and jumped out. Leonard swore (again) and shoved open the other door, holding on tightly and pulling himself up onto the seat in front, where the driver, a wild-eyed young man, nearly hit him before he realized that it was actually his employer.

“I’m going to take the reins,” Len told him as they hunkered down. An arrow whizzed by overhead, but he didn’t think anyone was actively trying to actively hit them. “Just run for cover. They don’t want you.” He smirked at the man. “Unless there’s something you didn’t tell me when I hired you?”

The fellow laughed shakily. “No, sir.” He cast a worried look around. “My horses…”

“I’ll take care of them as best I can…and I’ll pay for any repairs to the rig. Now…run!”

Len grabbed the reins and hauled the horses to a stop. The kid gulped and jumped, scurrying for the nearest building. Len stood up and looked around for Sara, trusting that the archer would at least have to pause to aim. People were going for cover all over, but it was a little odd that the City Guard wasn’t here already.

Then he saw Sara.

One attacker, in nondescript clothing with his or her face covered, was already sprawled in the street. Sara, not far away, turned slowly as six remaining figures circled—they must have released their horses for some reason once the carriage was stopped. His blade was bare in her hand, but still clean.

And then it wasn’t.

Sara had taken the offensive, darting at one of the figures so quickly that Len had barely seen her move, and the attacker reeled backward, a hand going to their now-bloody shoulder. Not a professional, Len thought, given that he’d seen true assassins or warriors keep going through worse injuries. But Sara’s move had inspired the others to close in around her, and...

Holy hells.

Part of him thought that he should go help her. A larger part of him realized that he’d just get in her way. And a portion of him was really, really having thoughts that didn’t belong in the midst of such a situation.

Sara was...Sara was a flame. A flickering flame of a woman who danced and moved and struck and fought. She was badly outnumbered, but the attackers couldn’t touch her. The sword blade shone in her hands as she attacked and parried and ducked and spun and sent people flying.

Len stood there watching her with his heart in his throat—and certain other body parts clamoring for attention as well. He’d never seen anyone fight quite like this, not the best guardsmen or warriors he’d ever seen. There was a fluidity, a grace, to her movements that was both incredibly beautiful and incredibly frightening, and all he could do was watch in awe.

And then there was one.

One Sara. One attacker.

The former landed neatly on the ground after executing an incredible maneuver that had taken down the biggest of her attackers, looking up with narrowed blue eyes and blade still in hand. Unsurprisingly, to Len’s mind, the latter promptly turned tail and ran.

Sara launched herself after him.

Leonard, cursing, leapt off the carriage and launched himself after her. Not that she wasn’t more than capable of handling things herself, but if they were going to figure out where this attack had originated from, better to have both of them in pursuit. And he _knew_ his city, inside and out, while Sara was a newcomer.

Cries behind him told him that the City Guard had finally arrived, but he had other things in mind. Let them clean up the mess if they were going to be that late to the party.

Sara was younger, but she’d also just been involved in a pitched fight...and Leonard’s legs were longer. He knew he’d probably regret it later, but he managed to catch her fairly quickly, getting a nod of acknowledgement and a slightly wild grin as she noticed him, and they pelted through the streets, dodging startled passers-by and other hazards and keeping the other figure in sight.

Fortunately, the fleeing attacker also seemed to be injured, because he wasn’t moving nearly as fast as he might have. Unfortunately, he headed straight for one area of the city Leonard probably knew least—the Temple District—and promptly ducked down one of the twisty lanes there.

Leonard let Sara head after him, ducking away and down an adjacent street. With a grunt—yes, he was definitely going to regret this later—he jumped and swung himself up onto a low balcony, startling an acolyte who was watering plants there. Len winked at her, then ran down to the opposite end, jumping again and landing on the low roof of another building. One thing about the Temple District was the sheer diversity of its structures. This wasn’t always good for a thief—well, it was generally a bad idea to steal in this district anyway—but if you knew the area at all, you could make it work for you.

He put on another burst of speed, then, with another grunt, grabbed a rope that’d been used to secure an awning and swung down to the street level, planning to cut off the attacker... but then Sara hurtled around the corner and nearly into him before catching herself.

“Where the hell?” she seethed, looking around, grip tightening on the sword that’d come perilously close to Leonard’s neck. “He was right in front of me...”

Len took a rather hasty step back. “I was just concentrating on getting in front of him,” he told her, restraining himself from putting a hand to his neck. “He came around this corner?”

“Yes.” Sara turned slowly, scowling. Leonard glanced around too. There were a few doors there, and at least one ladder leading upward, but someone would have seen...

Then his blood ran cold.

“Hold on,” he said quietly. “I need to check something.”

Sara asked him something, but he barely heard her, moving to the end of the alley and out into a bigger street, then around to the front of the building.

Hells. Holy, bloody, burning hells.

Leonard stood there for a long moment, regarding the now—supposedly—defunct temple of the cult of Vandal Savage, then shook his head and returned to Sara, who was cleaning his sword with a cloth she’d produced out of nowhere.

“Let’s head back to the carriage,” he told her tersely. “I need to make a report. This...isn’t great.”

* * *

Enough bystanders had told the Guard where Leonard and Sara had vanished to that a few guards had evidently been dispatched to find them. The pair had just emerged from the district when those guards hurried up to them, asking about injuries—and if they’d left any more casualties behind them.

Len and Sara had exchanged a glance and mostly ignored them, heading back to the scene. Both Joe West and Barry were waiting for them when they got there, while other guards were cleaning up the mess Sara had left. At least three of the injured attackers were still alive, and healers were attending to them.

“The Guard had a warning that something big was going down at the other side of the city, and we had a big presence there,” Barry told them worriedly, a look of relief on his face as they approached. “It must have been meant as a distraction. Are you both OK?”

Joe West, a tall man a bit older than Leonard, who looked a good deal like his daughter the bard, cleared his throat, giving the younger man a glance that clearly asked Barry to stop spreading the information to all and sundry. At another time, Leonard might have smirked at that, but not now.

Nothing really felt amusing, right now.

“We chased him into the Temple District,” he told West tersely, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “But he vanished. And I’m pretty sure it was into the old site of the Savage cult.”

West cursed. Barry’s eyes widened. And Sara tilted her head to the side, frowning.

“Savage...” she said slowly. “That’s...”

“The psychopath who killed the queen.” Leonard’s jaw was clenched so hard that it was starting to hurt.

“I thought they tore that down!” Barry exclaimed. “Didn’t they? After they executed him?”

“I didn’t even try to get in.” Leonard didn’t mention that he probably could have if he really wanted to. “If the cult is rising again...”

“The king needs to know.” Joe nodded decisively. “As do Kendra and Carter.” He glanced around, then gave Sara a look that mingled both admiration and colder consideration. “You left quite a mess, Master Assassin.”

Sara shrugged. “Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. Len smirked a little. “Are you going to be able to question any of them? I tried to pull my blows once the odds got a little better.”

“Perhaps. The healers will let us know.” West sighed. “I don’t suppose you recognized anything about them?”

They both demurred, but Sara pointed out the same thing she had earlier. “They weren’t trying to kill us; at least, not immediately and not as a priority,” she told him. “They wanted something—whether it was information or something physical, I’m not sure.” She smirked a little too. “I can say no one tried to talk to me, but that might just have been because they were...distracted by trying to stay alive.”

“Neither of you had anything they might want, as far as you know?” West shook his head again at the negative responses. “Get out of here,” he instructed, not without sympathy. “I’ll make sure there are guards around your Guild halls, though I’m sure your Guild members won’t thank me for that.” He rolled his eyes when Len bowed theatrically. “Be careful. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re better than the alternative.” He glanced at Sara. “And I daresay you’re going to prove to be the same, Master Assassin.”

Sara laughed. “The pain-in-the-ass part or the better-than-the alternative part?” she asked shrewdly.

“Both! Either.”

The carriage driver had emerged from safety with a somewhat embarrassed expression on his face and had been calming his horses, who had proven just how well trained they were by staying relatively put during the chaos. Now, he held the door for them to reenter the carriage before retaking his seat and continuing their interrupted trip back to Guild Row.

Sara passed Leonard back his re-sheathed sword as if nothing had happened, then calmly settled back in her seat.

“If they executed Savage,” she asked thoughtfully, “why are you all so worried that the cult could become a problem again?”

Len regarded her a long moment, marshaling his thoughts. “Part of the point of the cult was that Savage claimed to be immortal,” he said finally. “And that he’d be back. They _had_ been toying with black magic. If they think their leader could return...”

Sara hummed to herself, nodding. “But this attack... I wasn’t even in the city back then and you...were you involved at all?”

“No.” Len shrugged, knowing his tone sounded rather flat. It’d been a dark time. “I was asleep in the Guild Hall when Savage and his people broke into the palace and killed the queen. Heard about it in the morning with everyone else. Savage had already been captured.” He sighed, remembering. “The combined Guards simply overwhelmed him.”

He tapped his fingers on the side of the door. “The Royal Guard captains had a big role in that. Savage was fascinated by Kendra in particular. Thought she was his ‘soulmate.’” Sara made a gagging noise, and Len smiled faintly. “Yeah. He seemed convinced he’d take power and rule with her by his side. Instead, he was captured and executed—and Carter survived and married Kendra.”

Sara eyed him. “Who backed him? Savage? Something’s missing here.”

Len pointed at her. “Interesting question.” And astute, not that he was surprised. “We’re pretty sure someone did. He gained too much power, too fast. And all three sets of the Guard had been keeping an eye on him because of his rhetoric, but...someone kept redirecting them. And the orders never seemed quite traceable...”

Sara frowned, leaning forward. “But...you trust the three Guard captains?”

“I do.” Len frowned too. “Someone had been pulling strings. Never did find out who. And after...everything, when Savage was dead, people just didn’t want to think about it anymore.” His frown deepened. “I said that was a bad idea, but...”

“But people just didn’t want to think about it anymore,” Sara repeated. She shook her head, then looked out the window as the carriage stopped. “Ah. Home sweet home.” She sighed, then smiled a little. “And instead of some peace, I have a Guild meeting tonight.”

Leonard regarded her. “Big one,” he said finally. “Confronting your masters?”

“All of them, apprentices on up, but yes.” Her eyes were steely as she looked back at him. “There are a few masters I expect to push back on the new...state of things.” The smile turned cold. “I’m not worried about it.”

Given how he’d just seen her fight, he wasn’t surprised. And wishing her good luck didn’t seem to fit, either. She didn’t need it.

Len hesitated, then, watching as the driver came around to get the door, then sighed as Sara started to climb out, the length of silk that had been her skirt in one hand. After the past few hours they'd just spent, simply bidding her farewell seemed...

“Sara.”

The Master Assassin paused, looking back at him. “Len.”

“Tomorrow,” he said diffidently, looking out the other window and then back at her. “Shall I introduce you to the Artificers Guild? To see about that new emblem?”

Her smile seemed to say she knew exactly what he was thinking. “I’d like that.” She waited.

Well. “And then...dinner afterward?”

The smile grew. “I’d like that even more.” Sara stepped out of the carriage, ignoring the hapless driver, looking back at Len with a sparkle in her eyes.

He inclined his head toward her. “Then...until tomorrow, Sara.”

“Until tomorrow...Len.”


	6. Chapter Six

Sara watched the carriage move away, smiling a little to herself, then turned toward the front door of the Guild Hall. Not at all to her surprise, Amaya was standing there waiting for her, an eyebrow raised as she watched the carriage as well.

Then she looked at Sara, grinning.

“ _Len_ ,” she mused again.

“Quiet, you.” Sara breezed by her, still smiling herself. “Well, that was an interesting few hours.”

Amaya followed her through the door, past the wide-eyed apprentice who was on door duty and into the main parlor, which was otherwise empty at that time of day. “News preceded you, somewhat,” she told her friend. “We know the king confirmed you...but not until after you nearly caused an incident by showing just how much you care for rules.” She laughed as Sara rolled her eyes. “And we know that you apparently made an enemy of the head of the Council. You don’t do things by halves, do you?”

“You know it.” Sara slipped up the stairs, passing an older master who gave her an inquiring look on his way by—well, at least it wasn’t hostile. “To be honest, I think I had that enemy already, I just didn’t know it yet,” she said to Amaya, who was still following her. “And...” She lowered her voice as they came to the second floor, where Darhk’s old office and her temporary rooms were located. “...then we were attacked on the way back here.”

Amaya stopped and stared at her, right there in the hallway. “What?” she asked incredulously. “Why? And by whom?”

Sara studied her door for any telltale signs of entry, checking to see if the hairs she’d put on the latch earlier were undisturbed, then nodded to herself, unlocking the door. Nothing happened as she pushed it open, nor when she paused to listen carefully, so she finally entered the room, studying it carefully before sighing and crossing to the bed, flopping down on it dramatically.

Amaya didn’t comment on her friend’s paranoia. She knew why it was there. She followed Sara a little more sedately, taking a seat, and stared at her, obviously waiting for answers.

Sara, who didn’t really have many, shrugged. “One: Attacked in the zone between the palace area and the city proper,” she said. “Two: I have no idea, but I think they wanted something specific. No idea what. Three, a group of seven fighters. They weren’t great, but they weren’t bad, either. Some of them may still be alive. So, we’ll see.”

Amaya closed her eyes and sighed, then shook her head. “How do you get yourself into these things again?” she muttered.

“My charming personality and good looks.” Sara stretched. “Ugh. I’ve been fighting in this and I stink. Time for a scrub before the meeting.”

“After all that, are you ready for this?” Amaya sounded sober and sincere. Which is why Sara paused, and gave the question a few minute’s good thought.

Was she? She’d committed to staying—for reasons that included more than a handsome, charming and intelligent thief. The king, to whom she’d offered her blade, had confirmed her. This Guild, which could and should be so much so than the group of killers some people tended to believe they were, needed her.

She thought about the surviving apprentice, still and white on the table as Darhk had drained his life energy away. Thought about the dark-haired young woman who’d eyed her with such hero worship as she’d strode in through the Guild hall doors today.

“I’m ready.” Sara smiled. “Well. After a bath.”

* * *

While going through Darhk’s rooms, Sara and Amaya had found a passage in the back of the closet, one that led down to the meeting room on the ground floor. As the time for the Guild meeting approached, Sara made use of it, slipping down there and making sure the doors were thoroughly locked and padlocked. Then she went back upstairs, made a few final preparations and returned.

So, when Amaya in her place as acting second officially opened the door and let the other Guild members in, Sara was already standing there, at the head of the table, back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind her, a cool and competent look on her face.

She was all in dark gray, now, in businesslike leathers that would, she knew, blend with the night far better than pitch black. She wasn’t wearing Darhk’s emblem—they already knew, here, that she had it and how she’d obtained it—but she _was_ wearing a golden torc around her neck, with polished lapis lazuli at each finial. Nyssa had given it to her, once upon a time, and while Sara didn’t regret leaving the League, this was a piece of the past she was glad to hold on to.

Al-Owal, one of the Guild’s master assassins and Darhk’s second at the time of his death, a big man who’d showed nothing but scorn toward Sara, was the first through the door, almost undoubtedly planning to take the head seat for himself. He stopped almost comically dead in his tracks when he saw her there already, watching him with cool blue eyes, and the others piled around him to get seats, leaving him gaping and having to settle for one down near the foot of the table at the last minute.

Sara would be lying if she didn’t admit the sight nearly made her smirk. But she didn’t. She stood there, calm, watching, until all her Guild members were there, watching her attentively in return.

The Guild wasn’t a large one. There were six masters, in addition to Sara, and about nearly dozen journeymen. There were barely a handful of apprentices; Darhk had nearly halved their complement with his actions…and heavens knew how many he’d ruined or killed before Sara’s arrival.

Sara let the watchful silence stretch another minute, then nodded.

“You all already know who I am,” she told them. “Sara A’Stella, new head, by right of combat, of the Assassins Guild of Centralis.” She paused. “Former member of the League of Assassins in Nanda Parbat.”

Pretty much all of them, especially the masters, had heard that through their own chains of information before now—or they weren’t particularly good examples of their trade. Still, the low murmur that greeted Sara’s words was thoughtful in what she thought was a mostly admiring way.

“I was confirmed by the king this afternoon,” she continued, scanning the room. “And I intend to work to make this Guild into what it should be—not what Darhk made it, both by intent and neglect. But to do that, I need your support.” She paused another moment. “And if I don’t have it, I ask you to either leave this Guild and this city, or to challenge me for its leadership, by the old Guild ways.”

A moment’s quiet greeted the words—and then a derisive laugh rose from Al-Owal, there by the foot of the table. The big man stood as Sara watched him, leaning on the edge of the table and sneering at her.

“I challenge,” he said, scorn on his face. And, then, because he was the sort of man who just couldn’t leave it be, “No...little girl...deserves to hold this Guild.” He glanced around, obviously seeking support, frowned when he didn’t find it and looked back at her. “We’re killers, goldilocks. We take what we want. Darhk didn’t curtsy to the king or offer him his blade. He was strong! He would have made us into a force in this city. He was working on...” But to Sara’s disappointment, he left off that line of thought and shook his head instead. “I challenge,” he repeated.

“Accepted,” Sara told him calmly—and then, quick as a striking snake, her right hand snapped up and forward, and Al-Owal found himself trying to breathe around a throat full of razor-sharp steel.

A cry rose from the room, and people recoiled from the man, who made an altogether horrible gurgling noise as his hands scrabbled for the knife. Blood surged around the blade, and Al-Owal stared at Sara for one still moment before he fell.

Sara just watched as he did so, and she watched as he died. She hadn’t quite wanted to do that—but she’d known all along that it would probably come to it.

She’d been within her rights to throw that knife, from the moment he’d challenged and she’d accepted. Al-Owal's arrogance had led him to believe that she’d play his games, allow him to ready his weapons and probably even move to a more appropriate locale. And for someone else, in a different situation, maybe she would have. She could have beaten him, easily. He was strong, and had some skill, but he was no Damien Darhk.

But if she’d allowed him, at this moment, to pull her strings, to dictate the terms, she’d be showing that she wasn’t fully in control here. And she needed to be, heart and soul.

The other members of the Guild were staring at her now, most of them, and Sara nodded, seeing realization—and, in many cases, understanding and respect—in their eyes.

“I’m not here to play games,” Sara told them. “If you challenge me, I will deal with it according to Guild law.” She nodded coolly at Al-Owal's body. “In whatever way I need to. But if you back me up, I will make this Guild a respected part of the city again.”

She scanned the room, inwardly pleased at the expressions facing her. “We’re not just killers,” she said quietly. “We’re guardians and we’re warriors. We’re both the knife and the shield. We’re the ones who do the hard things so that others don’t carry that burden.” She nodded once, firmly. “Now. Who’s with me?”

A few of the journeymen actually cheered. But the first to stand approach Sara, standing and moving toward her deliberately, was Zaim A’Centralis, the oldest member of the Guild here. Sara knew he’d been no fan of Darhk—that he had, in fact, protected the apprentices as best he could—but neither had he left or challenged. That might have been because he was old enough to be Sara’s own grandfather—or not. Despite everything, he was still well-respected, in the Guild and in the city, and his actions here, Sara knew, would mean something.

He studied her with faded green eyes as he approached, expression serious—and then, only a few paces away, halted. And then he smiled, an expression full of relief and a certain impish amusement, and went down to one knee, a gesture of Guild member to Guild master.

“My lady,” he said, “welcome. You cannot know fully how glad I am to see you here.”

It all went rather well after that.

* * *

Thanks to his network of informants, Leonard already knew a bit about what had happened at the Assassins Guild hall the night before. Even before retiring, he’d learned that one body—that of a large man—had been carted off that night, and that no healers had been called. It was enough to make him rest easy.

In the morning, as he attended to the daily business of his Guild, he’d learned that the dead man, one Al-Owal, a known crony of Darhk’s, had provided the body in question. That one other master, a woman by the name of Yuhanna who was known to be at least accepting of the former Guild leader, had chosen to leave the Guild and, by tradition, also the city.

Everyone else had accepted Sara. And gladly.

Len, leaning back in his desk, had let out a long sigh. He hadn’t doubted her. Really, he hadn’t. But it was good to hear all the same.

Mick, lounging in the chair on the other side of the desk, gave him an amused look. “You got it bad, boss,” he noted shrewdly. “Haven’t seen you this interested in someone in a long time.”

Len shrugged. Mick knew him well enough that he wasn’t going to bother denying it—although he might prevaricate a little on the reasons. “Good for the city, to have someone competent in power. Good for the Guilds.”

“Uh huh.” Mick shook his head, getting to his feet. “You’re going over to Artificers later? Say hi to Ray an’ the others.”

“After I talk to this fellow who wants to contract someone to steal a book from the University closed stacks.” Len frowned, looking at the letter on his desk. “Do me a favor. Before anyone agrees to anything, ask Nathaniel if he knows anything about it. I think this is just some dusty tome that’s of interest to almost no one and hasn’t been checked out for decades, but I want to be sure.”

Mick laughed. “And tip the target off?”

Len smirked at him. “C’mon. You and I both know that even if Nathaniel does think to mention it to someone—which he probably won’t—their idea of security there isn’t the greatest. Not for us, anyway.”

“Right, boss. Have fun with the assassin.” Mick cracked his knuckles. “Now, I’ve got apprentices to terrorize.”

“Don’t scare them too much. I have a feeling the Assassins Guild is going to become a much more popular choice from here on out.”

Leonard’s meeting with the book-coveting scholar—who was feuding with the University and thus refused to go by the head librarian’s rules for seeing his precious books—further confirmed his thoughts that it was an uncomplicated job. Still, anything targeting the University would pay well—and, hey, they might even get the two entities into a bidding war for the item, at least if anyone even noticed it was gone. (Len had his doubts.) He gave the scholar a tentative agreement, told him to check back the next day for confirmation and a contract, and then left the Guild house, humming to himself as he started the relatively short stroll to the Assassins Guild.

Once he got there, though, he had to knock a few times before the door opened. When it did, the dark-haired apprentice standing there looked downright mortified...but Sara was standing right behind her, grinning at him and looking quite pleased with herself.

“I’m so sorry!” the apprentice said. “Guild Master, uh, Masters, I apologize.” She bowed low, as low as if he were the king, which made Leonard smirk—although the faint memory of fear in her eyes and the thought of how Darhk had treated the apprentices lent a dark undercurrent to her gesture.

“It’s OK, Sin. I was distracting you,” Sara told her cheerfully, winking at him. “Leonard, this is Apprentice Sin A’Stella. She’s going to be my second one day, wait and see.”

He lifted an eyebrow and bowed to the surprised girl, who blushed and then looked at Sara with such clear hero worship in her eyes that he had to bite back a chuckle. “A’Stella, eh? Are the natives of that city trying to take over my fair Centralis?”

The girl completely missed the teasing tone in his voice. “No!” she squeaked, looking back at him. “I was born there but..."

Sara put a comforting hand on her arm, rolling her eyes at Len. “He’s teasing you.”

“...oh.”

“I’ll be gone a while, but Amaya is here, as is Zaim,” Sara told her. “When Chase arrives to take over his shift at the door, go practice your hand-to-hand against one of the dummies in the training room, then start reading that book I recommended.”

“Yes, my lady!” Sin bowed again, then bobbed back up, looking horrified again. “I’m sor...”

“Sin, I told you that you didn’t have to bow to me. That doesn’t mean I’m going to punish you for it.” Sara gave Len a speaking glance that showed just what she thought of the state Darhk had left things—and people—in. “Now, I’ll probably be back by nightfall. I’ll send word if I...plan to stay out.”

Len didn’t miss that “probably”—and neither did Sin, whose eyes became huge and who then looked back and forth between Len and Sara as if she was wondering if Sara had meant what the apprentice clearly thought she meant. Sara, however, simply walked toward the door and left, and Len gave the girl one more wink and followed, offering his arm, which Sara accepted.

“Have a protégé, eh?” he drawled, turning them to the left when Sara paused. The Artificers Guild hall wasn’t so far that a carriage was necessary, and it was another lovely afternoon.

“She has potential.” Sara’s lips twitched. “If she’ll just relax a little.” She shook her head. “But she’s been living in fear for a year, ever since the shopkeeper she was working off a debt with traded her to Darhk as an apprentice, even though she didn’t want anything to do with the Guild.”

Leonard, frowning, looked back over his shoulder. “Did she sign an apprenticeship agreement?”

“Yes, because they told her she had to—or be thrown in prison for not paying her debt, which was actually one her late father ran up.” Sara growled under her breath. “I’ll be talking to the City Guard about that. They need to know this crap is going on.”

“Please do. Joe West won’t stand for it.” Len cleared his throat, then, directing the topic back to other matters. “So. The Artificers Guild. The builders and contraption-makers of our city. I don’t think there’s an equivalent in Stella, though I could be wrong.” He glanced down at her. “There’s some crossover with the Artisans Guild. And, if everyone can stop arguing, there may soon be an offshoot called the Alchemists Guild.”

Sara, who’d been studying the street around him with what he already knew was her usual thoroughness, gave him a doubtful glance. “As in, lead into gold? Hasn’t that idea long since been dismissed?”

“Yes, actually. But they’ve squabbled over a name for some long that people just started calling the offshoot that and it’s stuck.” Len smirked, remembering the reaction. “It’s more of a general focus on...oh, the state and content of matter and elements. Nature of the universe. That sort of fun stuff.”

Sara looked intrigued, even as she sidestepped a small child who’d run into the street after a ball. “Isn’t that generally more a focus of the University?”

“Yes, indeed,” Leonard brought them to a stop in front of a low stone building that was, notably for the city, not crammed together cheek by jowl with its neighbors—almost as if the other buildings were giving it plenty of space. “But here, they have more of a focus on actually blowing things up.”

Sara stared at him. “And you want us to visit this place and these people,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“What’s the matter, Assassin? Scared?”

* * *

Sara had definitely never heard “Assassin” sound like a term of endearment before. Leonard managed it.

She considered the thief who was standing them by her side in front of the Guild hall, one of the smile-smirks she was already growing increasingly used to on his face. And she thought of her interview with Zaim, the Guild elder, that morning.

“You’re already associating with The Thief,” he’d said, the capital letters audible. “That one’s father was tight with Darhk, once. Not that it ended well for him.” He’d shrugged. “I’ve heard naught by good of the son, though, as much as one hears good of a master thief.” He studied Sara. “Might the two Guilds start to work together again? It was a good alliance, in the past.”

Sara’d studied him in return, then given him the truth. “He’s offered. We’re…in negotiations.”

Her words had drawn a chuckle, amused, knowing—and just a touch suggestive.

“Ah, thieves,” the older man had said with a touch of nostalgia. “Talented hands, thieves. I knew a fellow once, a master, he…”

It’d taken a bit of an effort to get him off memory lane, not that Sara blamed him if those memories were accurate. And now, it was rather difficult to keep her own mind off the notion of master thieves with talented hands, especially as a rather impressive example of the type was standing there before her, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Not at all,” she responded, lifting an eyebrow. “Should I be?”

“Maayybeee…”

The apprentice who answered the door clearly recognized Len, but instead of having to run to tell the Master Artificer, he promptly moved a lever on the wall, and Sara could hear a chime deep within the building. She glanced at Len, who shrugged and leaned against the wall in his boneless fashion, waiting.

A few minutes later, a tall young man with brown skin and an easy smile strolled into the hallway, smile growing wider as he saw Leonard. Len had moved away from the wall when he’d entered, grinning, and the two men shook hands before Leonard turned to Sara.

“Master Assassin Sara A’Stella,” he said formally, “this is Jax A’Centralis, soon to be a master of…” He cocked an eyebrow at the other man, who laughed.

“Man, they’re still arguing about it,” the newcomer—Jax--said with amusement, taking Sara hand and bowing over it. “Who knows?” He smiled at Sara, who grinned back, liking him instinctively. “So, my lady assassin, how did you fall in with this rogue?” His smile grew as Len sputtered. “And what do you know about the situation here?”

Sara regarded him as they started down a hallway into the building. “Just that this is the Artificers Guild hall,” she said, “but Leonard said something about an offshoot?”

Jax snickered, then shook his head mock-disapprovingly at Leonard, who smirked. “Whatever you do,” he told Sara, “don’t tell them that. Gray—excuse me, Master Martin Stein—might very well self-combust!”

“And he’s a bit of a fire mage, too, so he very well could,” Leonard told Sara solemnly as Jax held a door for them and they emerged into an outdoor courtyard. She eyed him, uncertain whether he was joking, but Jax started explaining a bit more.

“Gray thinks that it’s time for a new guild,” he said, crossing the courtyard to another stone building behind the first, Len and Sara following. “One that some wag dubbed ‘Alchemists.’ Close enough, I guess.” He unlocked the door, then motioned them through. “It’s more to do with other things than making gadgetry and machines like Artificers, or artwork like Artisans.”

Sara, thinking of Leonard’s earlier words, glanced at him. “Like explosions?”

“No…well, sometimes.” Jax paused. “To be honest. But the nature of different metals, different elements, energy sources, things like that. And yours truly…” He winked at Sara, who laughed. “…is the first person to be coming up on the rank of master after having studied with both the head of the Artificers Guild and the supposed head of the soon-to-be Alchemists Guild. So, no one can decide quite what I should be.”

“What do _you_ want to be?” Sara asked him, getting a very genuine smile in response.

“Frankly, I don’t think they need to split the Guild,” he told her, pausing in front of a plain gray door. “Two sides of the same coin. But that’s not up to me.”

“Who is it up to?”

Jax shook his head, looking at Leonard, then unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Let me introduce you.”


	7. Chapter Seven

The first thing Sara saw when she stepped inside the big room, after Jax but before Leonard, was a tall man, wearing some sort of odd metal helmet, staring accusatorily across the room at…she turned…another man, this one shorter, older and gray-haired.

“You don’t know that it won’t work,” the first man said indignantly. “The material from that starstone…it has some very interesting properties! And…”

“Because you will not let me _test_ it!” The gray-haired man looked like he was about to…what had Jax said before? Self-combust? “If you would just…”

Jax cleared his throat, loudly. And both men stopped, looking toward them as if surprised to see anyone else there. Then the man with the helmet pulled it off, revealing dark hair and a lopsided grin.

“Len!” he said, looking overjoyed to see the thief. “Been a while! How’s Mick?”

“He said to say hello,” Len informed him, sauntering into the room, then glancing at the other man. “Stein.”

The gray-haired man narrowed his eyes. “Master Thief.” Then he seemed to notice Sara, who’d remained at the doorway, still and watchful. “Ah! My lady.” To her surprise, he approached, bowing low and courtly, “I can only say ‘thank you’ for ridding this city of the plague that was Damien Darhk.”

Sara laughed in surprise, holding her arms out in “I come in peace” ceremony and then bowing herself. “You are quite welcome, Master...”

“Martin Stein,” the man told her, just a little pompously. “A’Hedera. Although I’ve lived here a good while now. Master Artificer...Alchemist.” He threw the dark-haired man a look as the other...well, Sara decided that the best word for it was “bounded” up to them, still smiling.

“Raymond Palmer A’Stella. Head of the Centralis Artificers Guild. But you can call me Ray,” he told her happily, sketching a bow himself and then reaching for her hand in a move that told her he wasn’t even remotely thinking about her being an assassin. It was...refreshing and unnerving in equal measure. Sara let him capture her hand and shake it, giving Len a bemused look. The jerk was smiling.

“You look a little familiar,” Ray told her, peering at her earnestly. “I don’t think I knew you back in Stella, although I left quite a while ago too.”

Sara reclaimed her hand. “Same here.” They both had patronyms. She wondered what services they or their forefathers had provided to their city or the crown to earn them.

“Well...”

Somewhat to Sara’s relief, Len stepped in then. “Raymond,” he said drily. “We’d love to chat, but Sara is here to see Cisco first. Is he about, or did he run and hide when he heard I was here?”

Ray, looking a touch disappointed, jerked his thumb to the left, and Sara realized there was a dark-haired man seated at one of the marble-topped tables that filled the room. His head was down on the table and, as Sara and Len approached and the other men went back to their argument, he let out a tiny snore.

Len laughed quietly to himself, then smirked at Sara, winking, before leaning down to put his face about a foot from the slumbering man’s and taking a deep breath.

“Cisco!” he barked then. “Wake up! Where’s my sister?!”

The man shot upright, eyes huge, hands going upward as it to protect himself. Sara clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as he started to protest groggily.

“I don’t know!” the man named Cisco said. “I dropped her off...”

Then he blinked. Shook his head. And gave Leonard an absolutely disgusted look. “Really?”

The thief smirked at him, leaning against the table.

“This ne’er-do-well is courting my sister, Lisa,” he told Sara with amusement. “Haven’t decided how I feel about that.”

Cisco ran a hand through his hair and shook his head again, trying to wake up. Then he peered at Sara, blinked again, and smiled.

“How,” he said to Leonard, getting to his feet, “do you meet all the most interesting people?” He didn’t wait for an answer, bowing over Sara’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, lady assassin.” He glanced up, grinning at her. “I hear you’d like a new emblem. I’d be honored to provide that...for the usual fee, of course.”

Sara decided she rather liked this opportunistic fellow. “Of course,” she said drily. “You’ve made others, in addition to the latest Thieves Guild one?” She nodded to Leonard, who’d wandered back toward the others, apparently trying to give Sara space to negotiate.

“Oh, yeah.” The artificer clapped his hands together, turning around as if not quite sure where he was, then hurried over to a workspace near the wall. Sara, following more slowly, approached to see an array of tools laid out there, and a handful of sketches that Cisco grabbed.

He handed them to Sara (who slowly paged through drawings of the Bards Guild harp, the Artificers Guild wrench, and the Hunters Guild’s bow) and turned to mess about with a safe tucked under the tabletop, emerging with a tray of gemstones he set down on the table. Sara studied those, too, turning a deep green piece of jade from side to side before picking up a cabochon amethyst.

“Why aren’t you in Artisans?” she asked thoughtfully.

The younger man shrugged. “Because I like creating things like this, but I like science more,” he said cheerfully, leaning against the wall. “Actually, I’m a mid-rank mage, too, but I spend more time here.”

“Because you and Harrison can’t spend five minutes together without sniping at each other.” Leonard had wandered back, smirking at the younger man.

Cisco rolled his eyes. “Hey! Be fair. That’s true of just about everyone.” He shook his head. “Except Caitlin. I don’t know how she does it.”

Sara cleared her throat, trying to pull the topic back to her emblem. “I was thinking...a moonstone? With the Guild knife symbol, of course. And any...artistic liberties...you want to take are fine by me.”

Cisco looked intrigued. “Oh, I could do that. Moonstone’s a little softer, but one of those characters over there...” He jerked a thumb at the squabbling masters at the other side of the room. “... actually came up with a way to coat it without damaging it or discoloring it at all. I’ve been waiting to use it on something like opal. That could be good...yes...”

Sara reached into her belt pouch and pulled out Darhk’s emblem again. With any luck, she wouldn’t need to carry it much longer. “Here’s the old emblem, carved with the traditional knife. You don’t have to make it the same.”

Cisco wrinkled his nose and declined to touch it, although he did study the gem and its mark for a few minutes before backing away. “That thing...Darhk’s? Ugh. There’s something just...wrong...with it.”

Martin had drifted over from his ongoing debate with Ray to study it himself. He seemed more intrigued than disgusted, and cleared his throat when Sara started to put the emblem away.

“May I see that?” he said thoughtfully. “I’m simply...curious.”

“Those words. Those words are how things start blowing up around here,” Len muttered, but Sara shrugged and handed it over. Odd, but she felt lighter-hearted the moment it left her possession.

“OK!” Cisco had grabbed a lead stick and some more paper. “I have thoughts. How about...”

* * *

Leonard, smiling a little to himself as he watched Sara discuss her new emblem with Cisco—just a little more evidence that she was planning to stay here—idly turned to watch Martin head back to the other end of the room, carrying Darhk’s stone. After a moment, he followed the older man.

Martin detached the stone from its chain (Len casually stopped to pick the latter up and pocketed it), then—glancing hurriedly back at Sara as if she’d stop him—picked up a tool and popped it out of its setting. Then he fixed it into a sort of tripod on one of the tabletops. Ray wandered over them, too, as did Jax.

The younger man frowned at the stone, sidling away from it. “What the hells _is_ that? It...ugh!”

 “Yes,” Martin said abstractly. “Isn’t it fascinating?” He leaned over and shone a light into the stone. “I’ve felt something similar to this aversion before, but I just can’t place it.”

Ray leaned over to study it, too, shaking his head. “I don’t have any magic,” he admitted cheerfully (as he did just about everything, Len thought). “I don’t feel anything. But it’s an odd shape, isn’t it? The back’s uneven—almost in a pattern.” He leaned closer. “Reminds me of something, too.”

Len glanced around at the group of people staring at the stone, then shook his head. “Just...odd,” he muttered. “All of you.”

Jax made a rude gesture at him, but the other two ignored him. However, after a few more minutes, Ray jerked upright, nodding.

“It’s a key,” he said excitedly. “The way the back is carved. Look at it! That fits into something else.” He turned toward Sara and Cisco and raised his voice. “My, uh, lady...Master Assassin?”

Sara, as Len watched, shook her head and got to her feet, heading back toward them. “Just Sara is fine, here. What’s going on?”

Leonard frowned as Ray explained his thoughts to Sara, still focusing on the stone. Standing this close to it, for a slightly longer period of time, it seemed like he was getting more impressions from it. A taste in the back of his throat…old blood? And screams, echoing...

He shook his head violently, blinking as he heard Sara’s voice again.

“I think I know what that might fit in,” she said, a restrained excitement in her voice, turning toward the door. “Back at the Guild hall. I’m going to go get it.”

Jax nodded. “I’ll go with you. It’ll be easier for you to get back in here.”

Len could feel Sara’s eyes on him for a moment, but she left without further comment. He felt rather like he wanted to vomit but leaned closer to the gem instead. There was…something…

“Well, even if it’s a key, there’s something else going on too.” Martin continued to stare at the gem as well, frowning. He glanced Leonard, then, and seemed to pick up on the other man’s unease.

“What are you sensing?” he asked quietly. “You look like you’re going to get sick.”

“Eh.” Leonard shook his head again. “It…” He hesitated. It wasn’t like the other man was a particular friend. But… “Somehow, it reminds me of my father.”

Martin didn’t dismiss it. He did frown. “The former Thieves Guild head. The one who sponsored Darhk.”

“Yes.”

“Was he…ah…involved at all in obtaining the stone?”

It was a good question. Leonard considered. “Not that I know of. But…maybe? Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Hmm.” To Leonard’s surprise, the older man patted him on the shoulder and pointed toward a carafe of water on another table. “Get a drink. Maybe it will help.”

And a good idea. Leonard helped himself, smiling a little at the cold, fresh water inside the insulated vessel—something he knew was a Jax invention--and it did help a little. He sipped, keeping his distance from the stone, and after a few minutes, Martin joined him again, getting his own glass of water.

The artificer/alchemist hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I…this may seem in bad taste, but…when the Master Assassin there confronted Darhk for the Guild, what _was_ Darhk doing? The stories are all over the place.”

Leonard eyed him but decided to trust that the other man had a reason besides macabre curiosity for the question. “He was…hurting three apprentices,” he said shortly, setting his glass down. “Draining them.”

Martin frowned. “Draining what?”

 _What_ had Sara said? “Their life energy.”

“Hm. Would you even say…their spirits?”

Leonard lifted an eyebrow. “Like their souls? I don’t know…”

“Yes, yes, you’re a cynic, comes with the territory, I know.” But the older man shook his head. “Perhaps. But…”

But then there was a bit of a ruckus, and Sara and Jax clattered back into the room. Sara set a small, rectangular box down on the table before plucking the stone from its tripod, much to Martin’s disappointment. 

“You don’t think using it as a key will...release anything else, do you?” she asked, holding the stone as if it were a poisonous snake and studying the back.

“It shouldn’t.” Ray, joining them again, nodded toward the others. “Do any of you sense anything from this?”

At the three demurrals, Sara took a deep breath and fit the stone into the lock.

With a click, the lid released.

* * *

Sara stared at the box another moment, then looked up at the others. Martin was looking very thoughtful, Ray looked excited (of course), Jax looked intrigued…and Leonard was looking vaguely nauseated.

“Whoa.” Cisco had joined them. “Look at that. Why would someone use a gem like that for a key?”

“Well,” Ray mused. “A Guild master’s emblem isn’t supposed to leave her or his possession.” He fiddled with his own emblem, a blue-green stone in a gold chain. “Not until death, anyway. So Darhk wouldn’t expect anyone to get it…”

“Not until death,” Martin murmured distractedly. “Death. I need to…” He turned and went rushing off to a clustered desk in a corner of the room, muttering to himself. Sara saw Leonard watch him go, but she just took another deep breath and pushed the lid further open.

Letters, inside. Folded; a few tied with ribbons. Given how casually Darhk had kept his other correspondence, Sara’s suspicions grew even more. She checked carefully for any protruding needles in the box—it would be just like Darhk to fall back on that old trick—then picked up the top letter, glancing around at the others before unfolding it.

She read the first few lines…then closed her eyes. Opened them. Read it again.

“Len,” she whispered. “Your father’s name is on this too. I think. And…”

She couldn’t say anymore. She just handed it to him mutely, then stared down at the rest of the letters—there really weren’t many—and picked the next up.

She didn’t unfold it yet, though. She looked back up at Leonard, whom everyone was watching as he scanned the letter, going pale.

Ray actually reached out as if in support, but Len sidestepped him. He didn’t take his eyes off the letter, then started to read.

“Masters Snart and Darhk….” he read quietly.

“Snart?” Jax asked in puzzlement.

“My father had a patronym. Supposedly for services to the Council. I don’t use it,” Leonard informed him tersely, then continued. “Per our recent discussions pertaining to the ‘asset’ VS you’ve mentioned from the Old Kingdom. Orders are to obtain the asset immediately and arrange transport to Centralis with all resources. Will support here. Time Master.”

“Time Master?” Ray asked.

“That’s the signature.” Leonard stared at the letter as if it would give up its secrets, then looked at Sara. “And that one?”

Sara opened it. Read. Closed her eyes. She felt duty bound to read this one, as Leonard had done the last.

“Master Darhk,” she read. Lewis had, perhaps, already met his fate at the hands of his son. “Given the organization that we have successfully caused to spring up around the asset in the TD, I ask that you look further into the project we have discussed. Experiments has shown some success, and if Project Warlord doesn’t fully come to fruition, they could ensure the future of the plan.” She glanced up. “Signed, again, Time Master.”

Another moment of silence.

“Project Warlord,” Len said quietly.

Sara glanced down. “Yes.”

He closed his eyes, and she could just about see the thoughts flying around him. The room was quiet. Cisco was leaning back against a table, looking worried; Ray was biting his lips; Jax looked pissed.

“Sara,” Leonard asked, “is there anything else in there?”

Sara bit her lip. “One more.”

He didn’t say anything but watched her intently. Sara held his gaze as she reached into the box and removed the final letter. Then she held it out to him.

“If this is what I’m starting to think…” she said.

Leonard nodded and took the letter. He looked down at it for a long moment, then unfolded it.

“Master Darhk,” he read. “Your continued safeguarding of a portion of the asset VS is integral to the plan. The remining portion is in safekeeping. Please continue the experiments per the keeping and restoration of such assets. Will be in contact.”

And, in unison, they all said, “Time Master.”

* * *

 “Are they dated?” Ray asked after a moment.

Leonard looked down at the letters he was holding, then took Sara’s from her and rifled through them. “Yes. Cryptically, but yes.” He studied them another moment, almost loathe to continue putting the pieces together. If it hadn’t been for the attack and the chase to the Temple District—TD—would he have realized? Perhaps. But they’d moved certain memories to the forefront, and the instinctive chill down his spine was a sensation he was used to listening to.

He looked up at Sara again, seeing her putting the pieces together herself. She’d been there too.

Then, she looked at him, a question in her eyes, and he nodded.

“Harrison even said it,” he said, looking down at the stone and ignoring Cisco’s quiet scoff behind him. “It’s…”

“Necromancy.”

They all looked around as Martin, his tone bleak, joined them. The older man looked down at the stone, too, then reached out, his hand hovering over it, before shaking his head.

“I’m not sure how to test it, precisely,” he said quietly. “There was a fellow, before all of your time...studied how to capture what I guess you’d call spirits or souls in physical containers.” He sighed. “Well, physical containers that aren’t flesh and blood. I was part of a team that helped…remove…him from his laboratory. And this aversion...that’s what it feels like.”

He looked down at the papers in one hand. “I still have a list of his suspected apprentices here. We watched them all, for quite a long time. Nothing overtly came of it…but this one name…Phaedra…she had some contracts with the Assassins Guild…”

“She taught Darhk,” Sara said abruptly. “I saw that name in some of his papers. He…he had her killed, not so long after he became head of the Guild.”

Martin let out a long sigh. “I was afraid of that. I mean, we knew the association existed, but we found nothing related to the experiments in her lab…and her death seemed to be of natural causes…”

Leonard could just about see Sara forbearing to mention that, with her Guild, that was never a certain thing. She shook her head, then reached out toward the stone again, letting her hand fall away just short of touching it.

“Then…” she said, staring at it.

“That stone holds someone’s soul,” Jax said. “And at a guess, not a nice someone.”

Leonard decided to be the one who said it. “It’s Vandal Savage,” he said bleakly, looking around. “The cult’s on the rise again.”

They all stared at him, except for Sara, was just simply nodding.

“That seems like rather a jump, Master Thief,” Martin said. “How…”

“It’s all in the letters,” Sara cut in. “VS. And we were attacked, just yesterday, by a group we tracked down to the Temple District, to the cult home.”

“Wait a minute, just wait a minute!” Cisco had his hands up, backing slowly away. “This is bizarre…”

“Lewis helped Darhk get into power,” Leonard said over the top of him, waving the letters. “Darhk and Lewis helped whomever this is find and back Savage. And they believe he’s coming back. That’s why.”

“He’s dead.” Ray’s voice was flat. “Savage. I saw the body.”

“But what happened to it?” Sara asked him.

“The king ordered it burned, so the cult couldn’t make the grave—or even the body itself—an object of veneration.” Ray looked uncertain. “Well. That was what he ordered.”

“Who was in charge of that?” Leonard snapped back.

“No idea!” The other man looked rattled. “We have to tell the king.”

 “No kidding!”

Sara reached down and, making a face, removed the stone from the box. They all stared at it. Leonard swallowed again, against the blood in his throat and the screams in his head, and held the emblem chain out to her. She snapped it back into place in its setting, hesitated, then settled the chain over her head.

“Whoever this ‘Time Master’ is,” she said, looking at him, “they’ve been watching us. They’re going to know we’re putting pieces together.”

Leonard nodded, then looked around. Cisco looked vaguely terrorized (well, he often looked that way when Leonard was around) but he was listening; Martin looked angry and determined, as did Jax and Ray. They were all looking at him, as was Sara.

OK.

“Jax,” he said, looking at the younger man, “go back to Sara’s Guild and warn them that there might be trouble, then go to mine and tell Mick. No…wait, other way around.” He looked at Sara. “Mick will help Amaya in case of trouble. Let this alliance start now.”

Sara’s lips twitched for some reason, but she nodded. Jax nodded, too, then wished them luck and left at nearly a run. Leonard looked at the others.

“Master Alchemist,” he said almost formally to Martin. “Would you stay here and continue looking into what you know about how this works?” He nodded to the stone. “If this thing does indeed hold Vandal Savage’s..spirit, soul, whatever…we need to know what they plan to do with it.”

Martin nodded, but Ray put his hand up like he was a child in a classroom, chin going up, too. “I’m going with you,” he said stubbornly. “To the palace. As backup.”

“OK, Haircut.” While Ray was digesting the unexpectedly quick agreement, Leonard looked at Cisco. “Go to the Mages Guild,” he instructed. “Tell Harrison and Caitlin what we’ve learned. Then…” He hesitated. “Go to the Healers Guild. Please. And tell Lisa, have her tell her Guild head. And…”

But Cisco’s eyes were understanding. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Leonard sighed. “Thank you.” He turned quickly, looking to Sara, as the younger man’s eyes widened at the unexpected thanks. “Let’s go.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here are the next three chapters! The final one and an epilogue are in progress.
> 
> Continued thanks to LarielRomeniel and Pir8grl!

Sara wasn’t sure what she expected as she, with Leonard and Ray, exited the front of the Guild hall. A phalanx of armed soldiers, perhaps. The ghost of Damien Darhk, perhaps with that of Lewis Snart. Members of the cult of Vandal Savage dropping from the sky, threatening them.

It seemed possible. After all, the whole city, perhaps the whole world, had changed while they were in there. At least, it seemed that way.

It’d rattled Leonard more than her, but this was his city, and he’d known the queen, knew the king and the young prince. Now, though, he just looked determined, blue eyes icy and focused, although he did flick a glance at her and smiled.

“You OK with that thing?” he asked, nodding toward the stone.

“Eh. It’s unnerving, but I can handle it.” She really didn’t want him to ask why she might be…not susceptible, but sensitive, yes…to necromancy, despite her lack of magic.

Leonard didn’t ask. Not right now. He nodded again, accepting her word, then repeated “Let’s go.”

The Artificers/Alchemists Guild had a stable, and Ray had already asked for three horses to be brought around. It’d been a long time since she’d dealt with horses, but Sara murmured quietly to the gray gelding the apprentice brought around and was gratified to see how quickly he calmed. She swung up into the saddle, sorting out the reins, then watched as Leonard and Ray settled themselves on their horses.

Leonard muttered something to his mare, then looked over at Ray. “If we’re going at speed, we’re going to have guards trying to stop us. If…when…they do, stop and explain. Send word to the captains, if possible—Barry should be around here, and he’s fast--and gather as many guards behind us as you can.

The other man tried to protest, but Len spoke right on top of him. “You’re certainly going to be considered the most trustworthy of us,” he informed the artificer. “And it’s going to sound like a wild pipe dream. But they’ll listen to you.”

The other man deflated a bit, but nodded, and Leonard glanced over at Sara, smirked a little, and clicked his tongue at his horse, setting out.

As soon as they were off Guild Row and onto the main city road heading for the noble district and the palace, they sped up, the horses more than amenable to the borderline gallop. Sara leaned over the neck of the gelding, whispering encouragement to him, but the horse knew his business and seemed quite pleased to be running instead of the sedate pace usually necessary in the city. He avoided people adroitly even as they left yells of annoyance and surprise in their wake.

Sara glanced over and saw Leonard and Ray to the side, keeping pace—mostly. She saw the white flash of Len’s grin, and was momentarily glad that she wasn’t the only one who was enjoying this a little, despite the stakes.

“Halt!”

And there was the Guard. Sara chuckled, the sound blown away by the rush of their movement, as she saw that one guardswoman possessed of some forethought had gotten out in front of them, and had her blade drawn. However, the young woman hadn’t had quite enough forethought, because once she got there, she was confronted by two—Ray had already turned aside—galloping horses with two determined riders.

“Emergency!” Len yelled as they approached. “All guards to the palace!”

Sara had a brief impression of wide, startled brown eyes and the—girl, really—dove out of the way. The assassin and the thief galloped on past.

Whether it was luck or Ray spreading the word, they didn’t get stopped again, and by the time they clattered over the bridge to the palace, there were other guards coalescing into position around the massive building as well. They clearly didn’t know precisely what the danger was, but they knew enough to let Len and Sara through, and as the pair released their tired horses to a stable hand and yelled their identities to the fierce-looking guards at the door, they were met by Joe West, looking harried.

“Harrison Wells sent word via one of his tricks,” he told them immediately. “Carter’s with the king; Kendra’s above doing a bit of a flyover. What’s this about the Savage cult? And some…Time Master?”

Leonard lowered his voice. “Sara found the letters in Darhk’s office,” he said, cutting to the chase. “Whoever that person is, they were using Savage as a tool, to take over the kingdom, far as we can tell.” He glanced at Sara, who wrapped her fingers around the chain around her neck. “And the Artificers Guild helped us figured out that Darhk’s emblem, it’s…ah…”

There was no way of making it sound any less than bizarre. “It’s Savage,” Sara told West bluntly. “We already knew Darhk was practicing black magic. Now we know why.”

West stared at them, then ran a hand over his head and muttered something that included the words “too old for this shit.”

“Me too,” Leonard told him with a smirk. “But here we are. This is important--what happened to Savage’s body?”

“It was burned, I was told.” The other man hesitated. “The king ordered that. But…”

“But you didn’t see it.”

“No.” West sounded disgusted, but not with them. “Damn it. It was one of those things—there was so much chaos…the queen…we were all just glad he was dead. I remember…”

An outcry from the courtyard distracted all three of them, then, and Len and Sara both turned to see Kendra landing there, lifting a hand to call members of all three Guards to her.

“Cult members, on the grounds!” she called in a ringing voice. “I took several out, but I don’t know where they’re coming in. Spread out, find them all!” The Avian woman took off her helmet, shaking out longish brown hair, then drew her sword and started crisply issuing orders. West gave Len and Sara a thoughtful look, but apparently decided to leave her to it and focus on the puzzle they’d brought him.

But Len had apparently given it some thought, too. “They know we’re here now, know we’re spreading the news,” he told the Guard captain. “No longer worth it just to take us out, but they’ll want the stone and maybe the letters, and they’ll try to do some damage before any of this becomes truly common knowledge.” He looked the man in the eye. “Maybe to remove the other two members of the royal family.”

West had obviously thought of that. He nodded, his mouth a thin line, then looked at Sara, his eyes going to the emblem she wore.

Sara thought a moment, then took off her belt pouch, which contained the letters they’d found, then handed it to a started West.

“They’re going to expect me to have these,” she told him. “Better to pass them on.” She paused. “Your daughter. I know she’s stationed to the court. Is she here now?”

West took the pouch. “Yes,” he said cautiously.

Sara smiled at him. “Well. Who better to keep and spread information than a bard?”

That actually got a return smile. “A good point, Master Assassin.” He nodded at the emblem. “And that? If it’s what you think…”

“Until we know who ‘Time Master’ is, I’m keeping it. No offense,” Sara said hastily.

“None taken. But…it will make you a target, and they know you have it.” He nodded to her. “That’s not good.”

“I’ll take care of that.” Sara met his eyes, letting some of the League-trained assassin out to play in her gaze. “Where’s the king?”

She was rather impressed when West didn’t even blink. “You know,” he said calmly, “if you were the real bad guy here, it would be a very bad idea to tell you that.”

Leonard actually growled, but Sara shook her head, amused and, yes, impressed. “True,” she allowed. “But if I was the real bad guy here, would I have told everyone? And given you those letters?”

“True.” West studied her, then nodded. “In the library,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s actually quite defensible. Your thief here knows where it is.”

Sara decided to ignore the “your.” For now. She nodded to West, then glanced at Leonard. “Point the way?”

That got her a smile-smirk. “Follow me, assassin.”

* * *

Leonard did, indeed, know the way to the library. He sometimes showed up there without warning, startling Hunter when the king entered his library and found a thief sprawled out in a chair, engrossed in a tome on history, or science, or periodically a novel. It had long since ceased to be surprising, for the most part, and Leonard’s been occupied by his Guild’s business, but, oh, he still knew the way.

After a few turns, though, and at least one staircase, he felt Sara’s hand on his arm, tugging him to a stop in a nondescript hallway. When he did, and turned to look at her, she held something out to him.

A nearly black ruby with a knife carved in it.

He stared at it for a moment and then looked up at her again.

“West is right,” she said. “They know I have it. They’ll target me for it. Best if I don’t actually have it in my possession.”

“But…”

Her lips twitched. “Who better than a Master Thief to hide and safeguard something?”

She had a point. After a moment, Len reached out and took the stone, swallowing against the immediate nausea. “OK. But…”

Sara turned away, pointedly. “I don’t want to know. I _shouldn’t_ know. Just…tell me when you’re ready to move.”

“OK.”

He could see Sara blink. “Already?”

She turned, and he held his hands out before him, empty. “Already. Shall we carry on, Assassin?”

“Carry on, Thief.”

When they finally made it to the library, Len paused at the door, then took a deep breath, knocking in a pattern he barely remembered, one set not so long after the queen’s death, and shoved the door open.

He froze immediately, Carter’s sword at his throat. But the Avian captain withdrew it after only a moment with a shake of his head, allowing Leonard and Sara into the room, where the king also stood behind a solid oak desk, watching him.

“You do realize,” Hunter said, sounding remarkably calm, “that that was the code from, oh, about five codes ago.”

Len sauntered toward him. “Well. I _have_ had other things going on.”

“Indeed.” The monarch shook his head, then walked out from behind the desk, approaching Sara. “Master Assassin. I hear you’ve put some pieces together. Vandal Savage, you say?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Sara paused, but no one seemed to be standing on ceremony here and now. “I hate to ask this, but where is your son?”

Something flickered in the man’s eyes. “In his rooms. He’s guarded.”

The tone didn’t invite further questioning, so Sara let it go. “Good. Yes, Vandal Savage.” She took a deep breath, looking at Len, who picked up the thread, explaining tersely to the king about the earlier attack, which the king already knew about, the letters, Darhk and Lewis, the stone…and the Time Master.

“What happened to Savage’s body?” he asked urgently, looking from Carter to Hunter. “If they’ve preserved it…”

The monarch looked considerably unsettled, as well as somewhat embarrassed. “I ordered it burned. But I didn’t witness it. I…it was right after Miranda and I couldn’t…I wasn’t.” He shook his head. “I turned it over to others.” He looked at Carter, who shrugged. Sara recalled that the captain had been badly injured in the attacks.

Len sighed, but there was sympathy there. “You don’t recall who took that duty?”

“I don’t recall much detail from that time, I fear.” The king’s voice was self-deprecating. “It must have been someone I trusted, though. The old seneschal was…was gone, then, so it wasn’t him. I…”

A chime rang, somewhere in the palace then, and Hunter’s head jerked up, his eyes widening as he counted the rings. He looked at Carter, who looked both unsettled and conflicted, then at Len and Sara.

“That’s the alert that there’s trouble near Jonas’ rooms,” he said, fear in his voice. “They’re going after him. But…”

“But he’s not there,” Sara finished drily, actually smiling a little when Hunter eyed her with an uncertain respect. “I understand. I’d probably have lied too--you don’t know me that well yet. But…if you do indeed have a traitor in the palace…does anyone know where he really is?”

“It was a part of the emergency plan we put in place, after…after.” Hunter ran a hand through his hair. “The Guard captains, the Council…Gid…my seneschal. There are three possible safe rooms we settled on. And…I trust all of those people. How could…”

Sara cut in, gently. She wasn’t unsympathetic, but this wasn’t helpful at the time. “If you can bring yourself to trust me, I’ll go there and help guard him. But you have to tell me where.”

“So will I.” Len nodded, his eyes on his king, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You know me, Rip. You know that, for all my trade, I want the best for my city. And that’s _not_ the cult of Savage.”

Hunter regarded them both for a long moment, then nodded. “He’s in the north wing, near the greenhouse, in my wife’s old solar. Gideon is with him, and she…well…but…” He dragged in a shaky breath. “I…I value her too, immeasurably. I don’t want anything to happen to her either.”

Sara had to try to hide a smile. “They might be expecting you or a guard to go right there and lead them there,” she said. “Is there another way…”

Len let out a low chuckle, then. “There _is_ ,” he said archly. “I found it a while back. But…” He sketched a bow to the king, who rolled his eyes. “….please. Show us.”

Hunter muttered something about thieves and secrets as Carter chuckled, but he also turned toward a section of bookcases, casting about for a moment before pulling one nondescript volume forward. There was a quiet “click,” and the entire panel shifted, revealing a dark corridor leading away. Sara studied it, fascinated, as the king took a deep breath.

“This will let you out in a very quiet corner of the kitchen complex. Leonard knows the way from there.” He shook his head, worry in his eyes. “Please. Protect my son and anything I have is yours.”

“Oooh?” Leonard asked thoughtfully, but he also put his hand in a clear gesture of support on the king’s shoulder before glancing at Sara and starting into the passage. She followed with alacrity.

The passage was fairly narrow, so Sara sheathed her sword again nearly immediately. As the panel slid shut behind them, it was quite dark, but she could see light ahead. Leonard moved toward that light, Sara behind him, and they soon stepped into a corridor that seemed very old, with globes of low, flickering light set into recesses in the walls every few feet. Sara paused just a moment to touch one, cautiously brushing her fingertips over the smooth surface.

“The mages make these, and they last for a good long time,” Len informed her. “They’re a little too much work intensive to be practical for lighting everything, but they can’t really keep torches in here for many reasons.” He started farther into the passage, clearly intent on their mission, and after one last look, Sara followed.

After a few minutes—Sara lost count—they emerged, as promised, into a recess in the back of a tiny pantry, behind a cabinet that seemed to hold fancy dishware. Len slid it back into place, then ducked out into a hallway, drawing his sword again and moving into a run, and Sara followed suit.

They heard the trouble before they got there, and Sara’s heart sank at the yells and the sound of clashing metal—and at the chimes that signified trouble in a different part of the palace than before. They exploded into a larger corridor just as a handful of cult members—in the same nondescript clothing and black face coverings as their earlier attackers—arrived as well, and Sara lit into them grimly, without quarter, sword in one hand, dagger in the other.

This lot had had some training, but they weren’t anywhere near her standard. She took out three—trying to wound, not kill, but with no promises made--and spun to see Leonard dispatching his second cult member and turning toward the sound of further violence.

In the hall just outside what Sara guessed to be the solar, there were more cult members guarding the door, and one least three bodies in Guard dress on the floor. Sara growled and focused in on, not the biggest thug there, but a slighter figure all in black that screamed “danger” more than the others. The cult had to have some real fighters, even by her standards, or they wouldn’t be considered quite so dangerous; she’d been expecting this.

The person saw her coming and brown eyes narrowed amidst the black face coverings. They raised their sword and…

Ah, it’d been a while since she’d had a truly good one-on-one fight. And they were good, all right; in some point in the battle, they got in one good swipe at Sara’s leg and she danced back, biting back a hiss of pain. But she was better, and it was almost with regret that she clouted the person with the hilt of her dagger, somewhat hoping that the wounds were survivable. The blood lust was coiling within, but she’d managed to stay in control, and that was a fine thing she didn’t have the time and space to examine right now.

Len had acquitted himself well while she’d been preoccupied with the other fighter, keeping the others off them, and Sara helped him mop up, figuratively speaking, as soon as she could before they turned to the door to the solar.

Leonard, master thief, had the locked popped quickly, but the door only opened a tiny fraction before jamming again. Sara heard the ring of metal inside, but nothing else, which wasn’t, she thought, a good sign.

“It’s been blocked,” she said in concern. “Whether that’s by Jonas and Gideon or…”

Len made a noise of frustration and concern, then took a step back, bringing a foot up and kicking the door hard, hard enough to send even a fairly solid wooden panel splintering inward. Sara lifted an eyebrow, impressed, but immediately pushed past him to shove her way into the room, limping only a little.

As it turned out, the cult had blocked the door, because a group of members had made it inside. However, only one of them was still moving…and as Len and Sara watched, he stopped, for the most part, because Gideon, still all in gray, neatly ran him through with a businesslike flourish, and he dropped like a stone.

His wasn’t the only body in the room, either. By far. The two women stared at each other a long moment, then Gideon nodded and called out quietly. A, young boy, about 11, popped out from behind a solid wooden set of shelves in the room, a dagger in his hand, looking to Gideon and then the others. He looked like the king.

Jonas Hunter took in the carnage in the room, eyes going wide. “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” Len muttered from behind Sara. “Hey, kid. You OK?”

The boy clearly recognized Leonard, even if he didn’t know Sara. He brightened, then started telling the thief something with the excitement only the young or unbalanced could usually muster in the face of extreme danger, and Sara shook her head, continuing to focus on the…was she really the seneschal?

Gideon, after a moment, smiled, leaning down to clean her sword on the cloak worn by one of the assailants, and Sara, studying the other woman, thought of the unopened letter she’d found in Darhk’s office, about an out-kingdom Guild member arriving in the city not long after the death of Queen Miranda. Well. One more small question answered.

“Impressive,” though, is all she said.

The other woman nodded back. “Thank you.”

A clatter of noise outside made then all start, and Gideon hesitated in putting away her sword. But then the words became audible.

“Jonas! Gideon!”

Carter had, apparently, been unable to keep his king from going to see what was going on himself. Hunter, a sword in his own hand, rushed into the room and stopped in his tracks, focusing immediately on his son--and then on the woman besides him.

He took a shaky breath, then crossed the room, avoiding bodies, to hug the boy hard (a gesture Jonas returned) and then turned to Gideon, staring at her like she was the most remarkable thing he’d ever seen. The seneschal serenely sheathed her sword, then smiled at him, an expression that was just a touch tentative and not at all the way a court functionary would usually look at her king.

Hunter took another deep breath, then stepped forward.

Sara and Len exchanged a glance, grinning, and then turned away, letting the king kiss his seneschal soundly as his son made amused gagging noises in the background, and Carter pretended he wasn’t seeing anything. After a moment, Sara wandered over to one side of the room, poked at one body with a toe, then turned it over. Yuhenna, the Assassins Guild member who’d left rather than accept Sara as new Guild head.

She sighed, then looked at Leonard…who was studying her with eyes that were just a touch tentative as well.

“It’s not over yet, though,” he said quietly. “Even if most of the cult was wiped out. Savage…”

Sara nodded. “We need to find out who this Time Master is,” she said. “If we head…”

“Not now, you don’t.” Joe West had stepped into the room now, Kendra by his side. Both of them glanced at the king and the seneschal, West rolling his eyes, Kendra laughing out loud before she moved toward the bemused Carter. West shook his head, then started toward Len and Sara.

“The palace is on lockdown, until we find where the cult members got in and make sure they’re all gone,” he told them. “The better to…to work on your other puzzle, too, see if we can figure it out.” He sighed. “Some of the Council members are stuck here now, and they’re not happy about not being able to leave…and the others are stuck outside and aren’t happy about that either.”

Len sighed too. “Tell me I’m not stuck in the palace with Druce.”

“No, he was at his city house, and now he’s raising holy hells because the guards are keeping everyone out.” From the expression on West’s face, he liked Druce about as much as Leonard did, Sara thought. “Well, we don’t expect it to be more than overnight.” He nodded to Sara. “Guild heads have rooms here as a matter of course. The Master Thief does, and Darhk had rooms he never used—I’ve already had them searched, but they’re dusty and cold because the staff was frankly scared of him. They can prepare something else, but it might be a little while…”

Len cleared his throat. “My rooms have more than enough space,” he said diffidently, looking at Sara. “If you want.”

West snapped his mouth shut, looking rather amused again. Sara studied Leonard a minute, wondering…and then nodded. Either way, she’d rather stay with him.

“Sounds fine to me.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's your not-entirely-safe-for-work chapter, although it's by no means explicit. ;) Maybe I'll write a "deleted scene" at some point.

Leonard wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been thinking when he made that offer. Most of it, at least, really had been an honest attempt to make sure Sara was comfortable…and safe. She was still a target for the cult, and he hadn’t forgotten that, no matter how badass in a fight she was.

But she’d turned those bright blue eyes on him afterward, clearly wondering if it was an overture, and then she’d agreed—and suddenly Len couldn’t stop wondering if it _was_ an overture he’d made, and what sort of overture, and how she’d respond…

He’s a grown man who’s taken plenty of lovers in his day, he thought grumpily as they headed down the corridor toward the set of rooms that had become his when he’d taken the Guild. Far as he knew, he’d left none of them unhappy. Well, maybe, Alexa, but that nothing to do with…

He shook his head, trying to chase the tangled thoughts away, and opened the door.

The palace servants had definitely already been told he’d be staying, and the room had clearly been aired out, with a fire low in the fireplace—and a large bathing tub, already full of water, in front of it. Sara ducked from behind him with a hum of pleasure at the sight of it, a contented noise that made Len laugh.

“You can call a household mage when you want to bathe,” he told her. “They’ll heat the water to your specifications. Nice thing about staying in the palace.”

“I could get used to that,” Sara told him, laughter in her voice. “Can we, ah, send for some clothing in my size? I imagine they have stores here.”

“Gideon said just to let the staff know.” The seneschal, still a bit pink-cheeked from other activities that hadn’t had to do with utterly destroying half a dozen cult members, had fallen right back into her usual businesslike manner when she realized what the lockdown meant. “Same with meals.” He hesitated. “We never got our dinner.”

Sara’s smile was…interesting. “No, we didn’t. Well, later.”

“Later,” Len agreed, a little uncertainly. “Ah. Well…” He waved a hand. “Sitting room here. Obviously. Latrine over there; the palace has the modern ones.”

“Good. The one mildly decent thing Darhk did was upgrade the Guild hall to them.”

“And bedchamber back there.” Len cleared his throat, aware that he was sounding like the awkward stripling he hadn’t been in decades. “I…wait.”

Sara had turned, and as she’d done so, she’d favored her left leg a little. There’d been so much chaos before that while he’d seen the cult member’s blade mark her, when she’d kept fighting, he’d turned his mind to other things, like keeping the other attackers away from her. But now he could see the slice that gashed her upper thigh, parting the gray leather and showing traces of dried blood.

“You’re hurt.”

“A slice. Nothing bad.”  Sara looked down at the wound, then gave him a small smile as she unbuckled her sword belt and hung it onto a chair. “Really.”

“Still. It should be cared for.” Len paused, then walked back to the door, opening it to cast about for a passing servant. It didn’t take long for him to flag down a young woman who paused helpfully on her way back from delivering some linens. He made a few quiet requests, then motioned Sara over to pass on her own requests for clothing.

He moved aside before he could hear those requests, ducking into the bedchamber to be sure the four-poster there was indeed made up. They’d left the bed curtains off—he didn’t like them, legacy of a childhood spent sleeping with one eye open—but the usual blue coverlet and sheets had been neatly tucked around the featherbed. A much bigger bed than the one he had back at the Guild hall, to be honest.

Convenient. Perhaps.

Well, even if it was just in the factor that they could share it without even touching if they really wanted to. Depending on…overtures.

Len was recalled to just hold long he’d stood there, contemplating that bed, when he heard a tap at the hallway door. He ducked back out to the sitting room, interrupting Sara studied some of the books on his desk, and answered the door.

The much smaller basin of water was steaming hot, just like he’d asked, and he had to juggle it carefully, draping the bandages over his arm and tucking the vial between his fingers. He moved back into the room and over to the room’s couch, sitting the basin on a low table there, as Sara went to the doorway and took the armload of clothing from the young woman there with murmured thanks.

As the door clicked shut quietly, she turned to Leonard, lifting an inquiring eyebrow as he put the other items down, then rolling her eyes a little as she realized what they were.

“Len,” she said with amusement, crossing to put her clothing down on the desk and turning to him, arms folded. “I told you…”

“Sara.”

* * *

He was closer than she realized he was. In fact, he was standing right in front of her now, barely inches between them, looking down at her with those blue, blue eyes, darker than usual, the warmth from his body close enough to make the hairs rise on the backs of her arms in the utter opposite of a chill.

Sara took an almost involuntary deep breath, and the scent of leather, mint, and clean sweat that screamed “Leonard” didn’t really help. She peered up at him, trying to hide her reaction under a smirk, but the expression on his face made something turn over in the vicinity of her stomach.

“Sara,” he repeated, studying her closely, as if searching for something. “Let me help.”

Hmm. She studied him from underneath her lashes. “Help?”

A slight smile tugged at his lips. “I’m not a bad medic.”

In for a penny. “So, you’re asking if you can help take my clothes off?”

That startled a low chuckle out of him. She really liked the sound.

Then, Len lifted his hands—slowly, giving her time to move away if she wanted--and placed them on her hips, right below the waistband of the leather pants she was wearing.

“Yes,” he said, voice almost a purr now. “Yes…I guess I am.”

Sara decided she definitely wasn’t imagining how charged things were in this room. “OK,” she whispered back, making a decision of her own and moving infinitesimally closer. “Go for it.”

Len’s lips twitched again, and he moved his hands a little, toward the front of her pants, where those long (and talented, she had to think they were talented, he was a thief, after all) fingers tangled in the laces there. Sara kept eye contact even as she felt those fingers moving, untying and loosening, then gently curling over the waistband to tug carefully downward.

So carefully, he moved--easing the gray leather over the curve of her ass, the brush of those fingers against the clout of red silk she’d whimsically decided to wear. Sara saw Len’s eyes widen a tiny bit and she smirked but kept holding his gaze as his pupils dilated and she tried to control her own breathing.

Moving carefully, Len spun them both around and, slowly, one step at a time, walked Sara backward toward the couch against one wall. When they got there, he increased the pressure on her hips just a little, until she sat down, hissing involuntarily again as the cut pulled.

Len murmured an apology, but Sara barely noticed, as he also followed up that move by going to his knees in front of her.

_Hells_.

Once there, he reached up and continuing working her pants off, going very slowly and gently over the cut, then pulling the supple leather over knees and ankles and feet and then off, leaving her naked from the waist down except for her scarlet undergarment.

Sara utterly spoiled her unflustered façade then, dragging in a ragged breath and reaching for Len’s shoulders, but he smoothly moved away, getting back a little of the upper hand as he reached for the tub of still-steaming water. He dipped a piece of fabric in it, then then carefully wiped away the dried blood along the edges of the slice, inspecting it carefully.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “Very shallow. That’s good.”

Sara huffed, leaning her head back against the cushions and trying not to squirm at the feeling of warm breath against her inner thigh. “Then…”

But Len was having none of it. “You don’t know what those cult members had on their blades,” he told her, and he _was_ right. “This will just be a few moments.”

He cleaned the cut a little more, very gently, then reached for the tiny vial full of pale green liquid Sara had noticed before, breaking the wax seal.

“This is something the healers make,” he told her, removing the top. “I can’t say it won’t sting a bit. But that fades fast, and then it will numb the wound a little.”

“But nothing else?” There were definitely things Sara didn’t want to be at all numb right now.

If Len knew what she was thinking, he gave no sigh. “But nothing else.” He put a careful hand on her knee, holding her leg steady, then tipped the vial, spilling the liquid into the cut.

It did sting, and Sara closed her lips on another hiss of pain as the substance fizzed a little. But he’d been right about that too, and the sensation faded quickly, replaced with a sense of coolness along the small wound before even that faded. Sara sighed.

“Handy stuff,” she said.

“Mmmhmmm.” Len studied the cut another moment, then blotted a trace of remaining liquid on Sara’s skin and reached out to pick up a length of snowy white bandage. He trailed his fingers under Sara’s knee until she lifted it with another intake of breath, then fed the bandage underneath her thigh, wrapping the bandage around the wound several times before tying it off, snugly but not tightly.

Which left those talented fingertips lying there against her skin, just above the bandage, as their owner looked up through his lashes at her, eyes dark and intent.

Sara licked her lips, lifting her hands to rest them against his shoulders, and this time, he let her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Always glad to be of service.”

Oh, that drawl, and that wicked smirk. Sara smirked back, curling her fingers against the leather of his doublet and pulling him slowly toward her. Len moved forward slowly, still on his knees, until he was positioned neatly between her knees, shifting his hands to rest on her hips again, warm through the silk cloth there.

Desire curled within her even more at the touch, and Sara took in another deep breath, moving a little, feeling the rush of adrenaline…like the rush of battle…

And then she froze.

Leonard, to his credit, felt it immediately. “Hey,” he said carefully. “You all right?” He started to pull back, but Sara tightened her fingers on his shoulders, and he stopped.

“Yes,” she told him raggedly, trying to figure out her sudden fear herself. “I guess it’s just…it’s been a while. Something…something happened to me, a few years back, and I…I’ve been putting myself back together.”

One hand left her hip, lifted to curve against her jaw. “We don’t have to…”

“No!” Her fingers tightened again, so abruptly that he stopped mid-sentence, and she took a deep breath and continued. “I like you, Leonard. A lot. And I _want_ you. But I’m scared.”

A quiet breath. Then: “Of?” he asked.

“Of…” _Of losing control_. “Of losing more things that I care about. The Guild, which I didn’t want at first but is starting to become important to me.” She shook her head. “And…you. It’s been a while since I’ve become…close…to anyone new, friendship or otherwise. I don’t want to screw things up.”

Leonard watched her carefully for a moment. “It doesn’t have to be serious,” he said quietly. But Sara thought she heard regret under the words, and she knew she felt its echo in her own heart.

“But what if I…we want it to be?” she asked him helplessly. “And if it becomes more and it doesn’t…work out?”

To her surprise, Leonard chuckled a little. When Sara peered at him, he actually smirked at her, the jerk.

“Then we’re those elderly Guild heads with a torrid past who scandalize our apprentices with stories about each other,” he said gently, lifting her chin to bring her lips closer to his. “And we stay friends.”

Sara smiled a little, her earlier desire, merely banked rather than truly chased away, stirring again. She shifted closer to him, smile growing as he groaned, and breathed, “And if it _does_?”

Len’s chuckle this time was downright wicked.  “Then we scandalize our apprentices all the more,” he said, whispering the words against her parted lips. “ _Constantly_. We’re absolutely shameless, even as we grow old, and this particular alliance of thief and assassin goes down in hist…”

But Sara kissed him them, moving her hands to his head as her fingers scrubbed against his short hair, and Leonard kissed her back, holding her steady against him with one hand as the other continued to cradle her jaw.

They stayed like that a while, kissing, wrapped together, desire and heat building between them until he moved that hand back to her hips and finally stood, in one smooth motion, lifting Sara easily as she tucked her legs around him, and carried her toward the bedchamber.

They never did get dinner that night.

* * *

Leonard woke, later. He couldn’t, frankly, say what time it was, just that he’d slept enough that the greatest fatigue from the day, the battle and the far more pleasurable activities afterward, had faded, leaving a certain pleasant lassitude in its wake.

Yawning, he put a hand out toward Sara…only to find warm sheets but no assassin on the other side of the bed. That woke him a little further—but then he heard the murmur of voices from the sitting room and sat bolt upright, the shock of adrenaline making him reach for the sheathed knife nearby.

It faded quickly, though, as he recognized Sara’s low tones, and then even further as the door closed behind someone, and he heard the quiet slosh of water as Sara climbed into the bath.

Ah. Leonard leaned back, smiling, entertaining a very pleasant picture in his mind as he listened to the quiet sounds of bathing from the other room and faded back to drowsing. He was pretty sure it’d been a fine compliment indeed, that she’d preferred their earlier activities to a warm bath considering the way her eyes had lit up at the sight of it—but he couldn’t blame her at all for choosing to partake now.

Still. That mental picture was very pleasant indeed. And a bit after the sounds of bathing had faded and the assassin had had some time to enjoy her soak, he got up—shaking his head with amusement as he realized the nightshirt that usually hung off a nearby chair was gone—and padded cautiously into the sitting room.

Sara was reclined in the bath, hair fully unbound for the first time since he’d met her, golden strands darkened by the water as they drifted around her. She smiled lazily at him, lifting a foot above the water to wave, then allowed her gaze to drift a bit lower as she took in his own unclothed state.

Len, who was usually quite self-conscious of his many scars, did his best not to react to that gaze—at least not in a negative way, which was definitely helped by the fact that Sara’s expression had turned distinctly lascivious. He wandered over to his desk and picked up the nightshirt draped there, turned back to Sara with a lifted eyebrow.

“And they call me a thief.”

Sara laughed, a low, amused sound that had notable effects on his anatomy. “Well, I wasn't sure I could get someone to heat the water if I walked out in the hallway naked,” she told him, grinning. “Well...I probably could have, but I didn’t want to scandalize them more than they already were.”

“Since when?” Len moved toward the tub, noting that the water was still steaming a little. He dipped a hand into it, withdrawing it immediately and shaking off the water droplets with a wince. “And why are you trying to boil yourself alive?”

She smirked, waving her foot at him again. There was a sheen of bubbles over the surface of the water—she must have talked whichever servant she’d flagged down into bringing some soap for her as well. “It’s not that hot.”

“Is too.” Len dipped his hand again, shaking his head.

“Very mature. Wait...” But Sara sat up, laughing again, as Len put a steadying hand on the rim of the tub and carefully stepped over it, muttering to himself as he levered himself into the water opposite Sara. The tub was a good-sized one and they fit, but it was a near thing, and they were well and truly in each other’s space in a very cozy fashion.

Sara was still laughing, but Len was all mock-seriousness. “You need someone to wash your back,” he told her innocently, learning over just a little and reaching for one of the soft cloths nearby, then trying to maneuver Sara so that she was positioned in front of him. (Meanwhile, more water sloshed out and onto the floor and she tried, badly, to control the giggles.)

“I already...ah.” Sara leaned her head back against his shoulder as Len kissed her neck. “Ah, yes. OK, yes, I do. Please.”

“Mmm. You’re not going to be able to move much, or we’re going to get even more water on the floor,” he told her softly, moving the cloth along her shoulders—and then around and downward and not even remotely in the vicinity of her back. “The seneschal will be angry. We don’t want that.”

Her response was satisfyingly incoherent.

* * *

The seneschal eventually heard the complaint of a minor court functionary, a man incensed that he’d been given a room with leaky plumbing overhead while he was stuck at the palace during the lockdown.

Gideon, who knew full well that the plumbing was just fine—and who, after a moment’s consideration, also remembered full well who actually had the rooms over that particular room--had rolled her eyes. With a thoroughly insincere apology, she had the servants shift the annoying little man to another location, then carried on with her work, smiling to herself.


	10. Chapter Ten

Neither the crook nor the assassin was all that pleased when a servant rapped on the door at what they both considered a thoroughly unacceptable hour of the day, telling them that their presence was requested in the library in a candlemark. However, that was mitigated somewhat by the simultaneous delivery of a tray full of breakfast, and if breakfast in bed meant that they were running a little late for the library later, well—at least they’d bathed last night.

Sort of.

They walked into the library together, a tiny detail that went unremarked on, except for the nonverbal acknowledgement of an eyeroll (and a smile) from Joe West, who was at attention at the door. Sara smiled back at him, then glanced around the room, noting the king at the far end, speaking to Gideon, with Kendra and Carter trying to look unobtrusive nearby.

“Wait a minute,” she heard Leonard mutter from next to her—and then Raymond and Martin were right there on top of her, both talking madly, and Harrison Wells was sighing dramatically at them, and Sara couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Len’s face.

“Lockdown?” he asked pointedly, looking back at West, who shrugged.

“We lifted it already,” he said. “Well, sort of. Not officially. We actually snuck these characters in...” He jerked his thumb at the other Guild heads. “As they’re already involved and might have useful information. And we snuck the Council members who were here _out_ , while telling them we were breaking the lockdown _just_ for them.”

Len started at him a moment. Then: “You think the Council’s connected,” he said intently. “To this mess. To the attacks. To _Savage_.”

“We think _someone_ on the Council’s connected,” Kendra corrected him. “But until we know who, best if we keep it quiet.”

Len opened his mouth again, and Sara could just about see all the questions warring in his eyes. But the king put up a hand, then, and he stopped, looking annoyed.

“Before this degenerates into a free-for-all,” the monarch said drily, “let’s all have a seat. Shall we?”

He sat, then, signifying that they were all free to do so as well. Leonard plopped into a seat with more or less good grace, if no ceremony. Sara took a chair besides him, looking curiously around.

“Where’s the prince?” she asked Kendra quietly. It seemed odd that he’d be elsewhere--with the three Guard captains, some of the deadliest Guild heads, and a suspiciously lethal seneschal here, it was likely the safest place in the palace.

“The king sent him to the queen’s family this morning,” the captain told her. “Wanted him well out of this.”

Sara frowned at that…but then Hunter, raising his voice in a businesslike manner, addressed them.

“You are all here,” he said, the Londinium accent of his youth still coloring his voice, “because we believe you have something valuable to add to this puzzle. And because we trust you.” He smirked a little as a number of heads turned collectively toward Leonard, who leaned back in his chair and smirked back. “Yes, even our Master Thief. _Especially_ our Master Thief, which perhaps says something about these days we live in.”

Len started to retort, but Hunter (showing some kingly wisdom, Sara thought) cut him off adroitly.

“I was finally able to speak with the person who scattered Savage’s ashes--supposed ashes,” he said, motioning to the side. “Which is, you see, Captain Kendra here.”

Kendra smiled at them all serenely. “Well, I dropped them unceremoniously into a swamp,” she said with great satisfaction, folding her hands on the top of the table. “I suppose that counts.” Her smile faded. “But before that, I picked them up at the funeral complex just outside the city limits.  I _did_ check the urn. They were ashes from some sort of body, probably human. I…I’ve seen enough of them.”

Sara wondered about that, but Martin leaned forward intently.

“Go back a little,” the older man said. “Savage was executed. Who witnessed that?”

Carter laughed a little ruefully. “Darhk,” he said, looking at Kendra. “So I’m told. Joseph?”

Joe West nodded with a sigh. “Savage was allowed to choose poison as the manner of his death,” he said, shrugging. “And Darhk, as head of the Assassins Guild, was the one to prepare and deliver that, and witness its effects.”

Sara wrinkled her nose. “That’s not a usual duty of the Guild head, is it?” she asked with resignation. “Because I’m not fond of poison, myself.”

Hunter smiled at her ruefully. “No. It was a matter of…aptitude and, I fear, inclination. We don’t have many skilled in such things here, and if he was willing to do it…ah, well, no one argued with him.”

“And he didn’t have nearly as many compunctions about ethics,” Leonard muttered, but Joe had continued.

“Darhk witnessed the death, but then he was required to call in the head of the Healers Guild,” he said. “Master Healer Lindsay affirmed it.” He shook his head. “She’s since left the city to head up the Hedera guild, but she was trustworthy. I’d stake my life on it.”

“As would I,” Martin said with a nod. “Well, Darhk must have done…whatever it is he did to capture Darhk’s soul after he gave him the poison. And what happened to the body?”

“It was taken to the funeral complex, according to the records,” Gideon told them. “There were guards, because of the, ah, cult connection. All three from the Kings Guard.”

All eyes turned to Carter, who looked down at the table and sighed, then looked at Kendra, who gave him a rueful smile. Then he glanced around.

“Bear in mind that I was recovering from being rather, ah, dead—dead-ish—during this time,” he said. “I didn’t pick the guards, although they _were_ guards, and in good standing. Chosen by a member of the Council, although none of the records say who that was. That’s not unusual, and none of the current guards recall.” He sighed again. “But…the three guards listed in the records, they all either resigned or died in the past three years. And the one who resigned…he was found among the cult members who tried to attack the prince.” He gave them all a thin-lipped smile. “Well. His body was.”

Gideon’s chin went up at that, but she didn’t say anything. Sara, who’d left a rather bloody streak behind herself as well and was equally unwilling to apologize for it, gave her a bit of a nod.

“Did we capture any of the cult members?” she asked.

Hunter nodded. “We did. They are refusing to talk.” He glanced around the room. “And at this juncture, I’m not ready to break the code against torture that this kingdom has followed for many years.”

“I could do something about that,” Harrison Wells pointed out, leaning back in his chair much like Leonard was.

“And subjugation of the will by magic falls under that code, as you well know, Master Mage.” Hunter looked resigned. “Kendra? Would you pick up the thread?”

The captain nodded. “As I said,” she continued, “I picked up the urn at the complex. From the hands of the complex master himself, who affirmed that he had witnessed the burning and that it was Savage.” She shook her head. “He died not long after that. No one thought anything of it, as far as we can tell, because he was quite elderly, but…”

“But someone’s cleaned up their tracks,” Leonard said, a bit harshly, although Sara didn’t think that harshness was directed at Kendra. “Quite well.”

“But…why?” Ray asked a bit plaintively, leaning forward. “ _Why_ put Savage in power? What do this…Time Master…and his people get out of it?”

Harrison Wells drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, the cult members believe that Savage can give them the gift of eternal life, for some reason. And they like his message of power, of ‘making the kingdom great again’ and all that garbage.” He shrugged. “It’s a time-honored way of controlling the weak-minded.”

Stein cleared his throat. “I see why you think a member of the Council is involved,” he said to the three Guard captains. “But…could this person simply be a closet member of the cult? Or…”

Leonard brought his chair legs back down to the floor with a thud. “They don’t want a king, or any monarch,” he said abruptly. “They want a _warlord_. Project Warlord, remember?”

“But why?” Sara asked, looking at Hunter. “The kingdom’s at peace. Is there something I don’t know about?”

The monarch gave her a wry smile and spread his hands out before him.

“No,” he said simply. “However, there has been a faction of the Council that isn’t all that fond of the negotiation and give-and-take necessary for that peace. I think they’d rather like to be at war. A people at war tends to fall in line, after all, and there are many economic benefits.” He shook his head. “But they’ve been quiet, actually, for a few years now. Even Lord General Declan. I had believed I’d finally convinced them that my way was best, for the kingdom and by the will of the people. Or at least that I wasn’t budging on it.”

Sara made a thoughtful noise. “But…with whom? Who do they think we should be fighting?”

“The Thanagarians, for one, at least,” Kendra told her. “Oh, not our people…” She tilted her head toward Carter. “At least, not mostly. But the people of the surrounding area. There were rumors, at one point, that that kingdom was readying an attack, a little more than three years ago, but they were just that. Rumors. _Someone_ was rabble-rousing.”

“And there are definitely lords who would definitely like the kingdom to expand and obtain some fertile Thanagarian land,” Carter added. “But…yes. They’ve been quiet.”

No one spoke for a long moment, but then Len got up from his seat and started to pace. Sara, who was pretty sure protocol dictated that he shouldn’t be doing that, glanced at the king, but Hunter just looked amused.

“Let’s change tacks,” the thief said distractedly. “Time Master. Why ‘Time Master’?”

Martin looked at Harrison. “Have there been any mages warned for tinkering with time recently?

Joe West looked at them with horror in his eyes. “Is that a _thing_?” the Guard captain asked, but the Master Mage put up a hand to avert his concern.

“Not as such,” he said in his sardonic fashion. “It’s rather…well, theoretical, really. Time isn’t like some easily mutable, flighty thing. It’s a…a force. A heavy, powerful one. A raging river, not a trickle of water from a spigot.” He shrugged. “It would take a lot of power to move it out of its course by any means-- other than, oddly enough, normal human actions that all add up. Rather a paradox, of sorts. So, any mage who chooses to study time generally is looking at the theoretical. Lots of notes and muttering.”

Hunter tilted his head at the other man, looking curious. “Intriguing,” he said. “So, you’d almost say…time wants to happen?”

“Indeed.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Anyway, is anyone studying it right now?”

“Not that I know of,” Harrison told him. “Could be. The notes-and-muttering stage, we pretty much ignore. It’s when someone starts trying to actually pull those theoretical strings that we have to do something about it.” He considered. “The last time someone actually tried to really control time in a massive, overt fashion was…Jurgens. Rather before my time, no pun intended, but you know how that worked out.”

Sara, who didn’t, glanced at Len, but he was focused on the mage. “You said…’normal human actions that all add up.’”

Harrison shrugged again. “Same thing that always changes time. In fact, the only thing that ever really does.”

“But if our ‘Time Master’ thinks they’re changing those actions, behind the scenes, pulling non-theoretical strings…” Len glanced around the room. “Master of time.”

“And that’s a good supposition, Master Thief,” Hunter broke in, “and could very well be correct. But it still begs the question: Who?”

He was looking at Leonard, but the thief was simply standing in place, hands on the back of his chair, eyes distant and lost in thought. Sara, who already recognized the signs of that sly mind at work, spoke up instead.

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” she said carefully, “but if you and your…your line die out, who picks the next monarch and royal line?”

Hunter studied her. “The Council,” he said after a moment. “Based on what they judge best for the kingdom.” He smiled wryly. “The last few times that’s happened in our history, that’s been someone from one of the Council families, coincidentally enough.”

“Could…could the Council make Savage the rightful king? In that circumstance? Do they have that power? If he has enough backing?”

Kendra spoke up in protest, then, with Carter chiming in, and it took a minute for that to die down. And by the time it had, Leonard had looked back up again, face set and eyes intent.

“They do, don’t they?” he asked Hunter. “In fact, Savage would need them to. Even with the cult at full strength, he didn’t have enough people to completely taken over all the Guards and the Guild masters and everyone who’d fairly dramatically object to what he’d done. He’d need that legitimacy.”

“Yes,” the king responded slowly, as the others started talking again. “But…”

But Leonard was on a tear then. “My father received the honor of a patronym because of ‘services to the Council,’” he spat, “although I was never clear on what those were and didn’t care to ask. And he sponsored Darhk when Darhk was confirmed as Guild master. Together, those two found Vandal Savage, a warlord, in some hellhole and brought him here—on the orders of this ‘Time Master.’”

He started pacing again, agitation in every line. “And Savage started his cult, set up nicely in the Temple District, and it grew, because some people will always believe those who promise them power. Darhk started with his experiments, to give Savage some semblance of the ‘eternal life’ he liked to rave about.” He turned and stared at them all. “And then Savage made his play, and it failed. Why did he make his attempt then? Rip?”

The king ignored the use of his old name, but slowly stood, regarding his friend. “You mean, what was going on in the kingdom?”

Len’s eyes were direct, and Sara had the feeling he knew exactly what he was getting at. “And with the Council. I know it all was mostly forgotten, in the chaos of that time, but…”

“They were pressing for war, then.” Kendra said, standing too, Carter at her side. “That was the peak of it, but it was after you’d put your foot down, your majesty. And we were advocating against it, too.”

“They knew I wasn’t going to bend,” Hunter murmured, then shook his head roughly. “But the Council…I can’t say I’ve gotten along famously with all of them over the years, but…”

“You’ve had Council members you were friendlier with,” Joe reminded him. “Interesting, isn’t it, that they’ve handed over their seats—or been forced to hand over their seats—to others, over the years?”

“But who…”

“Druce,” Leonard’s voice was hard and certain. “It’s Druce. Maybe not just him, but he’s been the leader and the impetus for all this. He’s Time Master.” He looked at Carter and Kendra, then at the others. “He used Lewis when he was Guild head. He considered Darhk ‘useful’--he made sure Darhk was there for Savage’s death. He picked the guards who took the body to the funeral complex—and disposed of ones who, perhaps, had second thoughts. He got the master there to lie about the ashes, and then made sure he wasn’t an issue in the future.”

He took a deep breath. “Sara threw all his plans into disarray when she killed Darhk and took the stone. He sent cult members to get it, but that didn’t work—and then when he realized we were putting pieces together, he directed the cult to make another play for the king and the prince. Partly as distraction, I bet, but also to potentially take out more means of obtaining those pieces, and to ready things for Savage’s return.”

Silence

“You have no proof,” Hunter said, but there was no conviction in his tone. “And…I thought we figured that they didn’t know how to restore Savage’s soul yet.”

Len glanced at Sara. “I didn’t think of this before. Pardon if it sounds callous, but…if Darhk was tearing through apprentices three at a time for his experiments, you wouldn’t have any left at all. He was on to something. And…”

It clicked. “And one of the apprentices lived,” Sara breathed. “And is recovering. Darhk had finally figured it out.”

“Someone took Druce the news and maybe even the method. Probably the Guild member who left—the one you found with the cult,” Gideon said, a cold, controlled anger in her voice. She looked up at Hunter. “I’ve told you I don’t trust him. This all fits, my l…my lord.”

The king took a deep breath. And then he nodded.

“Miranda hated him, too” he said faintly, and Sara’s heart went out to him. “Druce. He tried to sabotage our marriage contract, because he said better alliances could be made elsewhere. And he didn’t like that Miranda had trained as an air mage…thought it was ‘unqueenly.’ I always thought he didn’t like that she had power that wasn’t dependent on our marriage.” His eyes hardened then. “Carter, Kendra, Joseph. I think it’s time…”

“Captain!” Someone hammered on the door to the library. “Captain!”

Joe’s eyes widened and he turned, moving to the door and drawing his sword, holding it as he opened the door. Barry just about fell inside, breathing heavily, then righted himself and looked at them all.

“Your son,” he told the king. “The guards taking him to the Coburn family…they’re all dead, and we have a message from…from…”

“Zaman Druce,” Hunter finished, icy anger and a terrible, terrible fear in his voice. Everyone in the room stood, all staring at the younger guard.

Barry swallowed. “Yes,” he said. “He has Jonas. And he says…he says you probably know what he wants in return.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here are the final three chapters! Many thanks to LarielRomeniel and Pir8grl.

The message was in the form of a young functionary of the Druce noble family, barely a boy, fear and the strong ego of the misled and self-righteous in his eyes. An insult to the king, really, to send one so unimportant, though the boy probably didn’t realize that. He straightened importantly as Hunter strode into the room where a guard held him at swordpoint, chin going up as he stared at the king. Leonard, who’d entered hard on the king’s heels with Sara at his side, saw the kid’s eyes go right to the assassin. So, he’d been told to watch for her.

Still, he didn’t speak yet, and Hunter stopped a few feet away and studied him, then shook his head.

“So, Druce is using children now as well as abducting them?” he said, a note of resigned disgust in his voice rather than the terror Len knew was there. “Not so much a surprise, I suppose.” Hunter waved a hand as the young man’s eyes widened and he started to retort. “Speak.”

Exactly the right note to hit. Len gave his friend an approving look as the messenger struggled for equilibrium.

“Lord Zaman Druce has custody of your son,” he managed finally. “He has sent me with this message of his intentions…” But the kid stopped dead as Carter put the bare blade of his sword at his throat when he tried to remove something from a belt pouch. Kendra darted in to remove the item, which was, oddly enough, Leonard thought, a seashell.

Harrison Wells, who’d been behind the others, held out his hand for it. “I’ve seen these before,” the mage said. “Let me.”

Kendra gave it to him, and he studied the shell a moment, holding his hand over it. Sara felt a breeze, and then:

Zaman Druce’s voice sounded around them as air rushed out of the shell. “Michael Hunter,” the Council head said crisply. “I have your son, as you know by now. He is healthy and well, and I will give you proof of that in a moment. That said, he is hostage to your behavior in regard to a recent Council decision.”

Hunter started to respond, but Druce started to speak again, and Harrison gave a quick shake of his head, indicating that it only worked one way.

“You are a weak king,” the Council head said clinically. “One who is…unwilling to take the steps to expand this kingdom or to protect it. And you will step down, take your son, and repair to a location of our choosing, to live in exile. Or…your son will die, and there will be civil war.” He paused again. “And you will hand over the Assassins Guild emblem, which was taken from our friend, Damien Darhk, in an unfair challenge, so it can be passed on to someone else.”

Leonard heard Sara actually growl, which was too damned distracting considering the gravity of the situation. He glanced at her, seeing the fire in her eyes, but she stayed silent as they all continued to listen.

“The exchange will take place tomorrow, at noon, on the bridge to the noble district, which should be neutral ground,” Druce continued. “If you are not there, or fail to meet our specifications, the boy will die, as will you. Now…”

There was a moment of silence, and then: “I won’t!” Jonas Hunter’s young voice spoke up, angry and scared. “I won’t do as you say. You are a traitor to the kingdom and the throne, and…”

There was a sudden wet sound, as if of someone—Jonas—spitting, and then the boy’s voice faded, as if Druce was moving away from him with great alacrity. Leonard hesitated, looking at Hunter, seeing both a grim smile on the king’s face at his son’s bravery and the fear in his eyes.

Druce, perhaps, was struggling to regain his equanimity. “You have heard our terms,” he added finally. “Good day.” With a final whistle of passing air, the voice fell silent.

Harrison studied the shell again, then tucked it into his own belt pouch. The messenger started to say something, but Hunter immediately cut him off, motioning to the guards.

“Take this child and find someplace safe and secure for him,” he said, showing no sign of the anger and fear the message must have evoked in him. “Master Mage, you have a way for us to respond?”

“I am to return to Lord Druce right away,” the kid spoke up, his own measure of fear and indignation in his voice. “I…”

The king cut him off again. “You will stay here, as we are not so foolish as to allow even a childish spy to return to a traitor to the kingdom. And you must have noticed that your return was not one of Druce’s specifications.” He smiled, thinly, at the expression on the messenger’s face. “Consider yourself relieved of duty. Also, consider whether you are also a traitor to this kingdom. It is rather an important decision, and quite probably one Druce did not frame in an appropriate way for you.”

Carter took the stunned boy by the arm and marched him off toward where Leonard knew the cells were—not dungeons, but secure none the less. Hunter turned and spoke quietly and urgently to Joe West, who promptly turned and departed as well. Harry had also vanished, apparently in response to the king’s early question.

Leonard took a deep breath, trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts and feelings of the day. He glanced at Sara, who looked back at him, an edge of fire still in her gaze along with worry.

“Do you really think it would be civil war?” she asked him quietly. “If the king doesn’t abdicate?”

“I think Druce is overplaying his hand.” Leonard shook his head. “He’s counting on the king focusing on his son, first, and not looking too closely at things. The Council members are important members of the 12 noble families, but that doesn’t mean they control those families, and I doubt all of them are totally on board with this anyway. The Coburns certainly won’t be. He’s…”

But then Joe came back into the room, with his daughter right beside him, and Hunter was speaking again.

“Master Iris,” he said formally, hands behind his back (and only Sara and Leonard could see how white the knuckles were). “The master of your Guild is presumably across the city in his Guild hall, and this is a matter of urgency. We need to know. By your knowledge of your trade and the people of this city, will we be supported if we chose to oppose Zaman Druce in this coup attempt of his? Have we been that out of touch with the people?”

Joe had apparently filled Iris in on the way there. The bard nodded, putting her own hands behind her back formally, and addressed him.

“Lor…Zaman Druce has his adherents, as does the faction that wishes for the kingdom to press for war, any war—and most of them are the same. But they are not a large faction,” she told him. “The common people, they support you. Many of the lords do, too, but Druce has been working on the Council.”

Hunter gave her a tiny smile, clearly relieved in some measure. “And you’ve told me that before, but I did not listen,” he said quietly. “I apologize. So, if I call him on this…”

“There may be some trouble. But the majority will be with you.” She hesitated. “One issue. The Lord General…he’s one of the ones who want war. Very much.”

“Not so much a surprise,” Leonard muttered, but Iris had continued.

“Still, he’s managed to alienate much of the core army,” she said. “Too many decisions, I’ve learned from talking to the soldiers, that pay too little attention to the people under his command. And for a true war, there would have to be many conscripts, and that would not go well for him at all.”

“Thank you, Master Iris.” Hunter looked around, taking in everyone there, including the returned Carter and Harrison Wells, who’d entered with a dark-haired young woman. “Well. For the time, it seems that you lot are my Council. What say you?”

“Stall,” Leonard told him promptly. “Make no promises but let him believe you’ll meet him for the trade-off. And we…” He looked around. “…well, some of us. We figure out where they actually have the prince, and we go there.”

“We end Druce,” Sara cut in. “We rescue Jonas.” She waved a hand as a few of the others spoke up. “Yes, I know there’s more to it. But that’s the gist.”

Hunter nodded to them, glancing around and seeing no argument with the core idea. “And how do we deliver that message?”

Harry stepped forward then, motioning to the young woman with him. She glanced around, giving them a quick smile. Len liked her instinctively.

The Guild master nodded to her. “This is Zari,” he said, “a master air mage. And she has a trick of sending a voice—any voice, not just hers—on the wind, without gimmicks like that seashell.”

Zari gave them all a quick, wry smile, then belatedly seemed to realize what sort of company she was keeping and made a rather perfunctory gesture that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be a bow or a curtsey. “Whenever you’d like,” she said, “your majesty.”

Hunter studied her, clearly intrigued. “That’s how you got the message here earlier, isn’t it?” he said to Harry before looking back at her. “Thank you, Master Zari. Can you send a message to someone in particular without knowing where they are?”

The mage gave him a bigger smile, still a little sardonic. “I can, if I’ve met them. And I _have_ met Druce.” The name was filled with distaste, and no one complained about the lack of a title. “And, I can see, sort of, where those messages go.”

The king’s smile was downright sly. For a moment, Len could see the young cutpurse-turned-prince he’d been back when they met. “Excellent. However…” He looked at Harry again. “Will that tip Druce off? Do you think?”

The older man started to shrug, then caught himself and looked thoughtful. Len glanced at Sara. Harry, he knew from experience, took very little seriously that didn’t directly affect him and those he cared about. But he was clearly trying to expand that definition now. At least for the sake of the prince.

“I don’t think so,” the mage said slowly, glancing at Zari, who nodded encouragingly. “It’s rather a new trick. But with similar things…backtracking hasn’t been possible. Druce shouldn’t suspect it.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Still…you’ll want to remain circumspect anyway. Make no promises, as he said.” He eyed Leonard, who restrained himself from smirking, and then tipped his head toward the king. “Are you ready?”

Hunter set his shoulders. “Yes,” he returned. “Sooner the better.”

The mage Zari held out her hands, backs up, then turned them palms up upward, suddenly. A wind began to whistle around the corners of the room, and Leonard glanced around nearly involuntarily. Hunter tilted his head up as it swirled around him.

“Zaman Druce,” he said calmly, “I am taking your words under advisement. And I will be at the site you mentioned at the time specified. As long as you are, as well.” His eyes and his voice hardened. “With. My. Son.”

He lifted a hand. And wind swirled around him, and then Zari brought her hands up too, and it whistled around the room and was gone.

Hunter let out a long, low breath, but the mage Zari closed her eyes immediately, a look of great concentration on her face. After a moment, she moved a little closer to the room’s one window, tilting her face up.

Leonard, intrigued, glanced at Sara, who was studying the other woman with great curiosity. She gave him a slight smile, but they all stayed quiet, letting the mage concentrate.

Finally, Zari’s eyes popped open, her brow furrowed. “He’s at his city house,” she said quickly. “But he’s in a complex of rooms underground. The wind had to find its way down there, which is why it was a little more complicated. I had to really concentrate.” She looked at Hunter. “Your son is there, too, sir. He’s OK, although Druce has him confined to one small room now.” A smirk crossed her features. “He’s angry and he kept trying to get away. He’s calling Druce the most remarkable names. Where did a prince learn those words?”

Hunter looked torn about relief, anger, and amusement. “He has a certain fondness for the Guard, and for the company of a certain thief and his second.” He glanced at Leonard. “And perhaps I have not self-censored as a king should, over the years. Ah, well.”

Zari smiled too but continued. “There’s another room there, too, set up as if for a ritual of some sort. Diagrams and candles and such.” She hesitated. “And there’s a body, surrounded by a preservation field, laid out as if in state. A man, dark haired. I’ve seen a picture; it’s…”

“Vandal Savage.”

Zari looked only briefly surprised at the king’s knowledge. “Yes. Cult members there, too. Not so many, though. And in the aboveground portion of the house, there’s only a small staff. I think Druce may be trying to convince you that he’s elsewhere.”

“Many of the Council members have been seen arriving at the Lord General’s city house. And there’s a buildup of soldiers there,” Kendra reported. She’d quietly entered the room while they were all watching Zari. “Mostly officers, the ones who’ve most supported Declan. I have people I trust in with the rank-and-file, though. And they’ll be with you.” She sighed. “Some guards, from all three divisions. But not many.”

Hunter nodded, turning to Iris again. The bard had been avidly watching all of this, apparently mentally filing it away. “I think it’s best if we start to get the word out about what’s going on,” he told her. “All of it. I have nothing to hide.” The bard nodded in return, touched her father’s arm, and then left, and the king looked at Kendra and Carter. “Will you go to the barracks? See that the common soldiers are, indeed, with us.” A smile touched his lips. “There will be bonuses, for their loyalty. I trust you to know how, and when, to mention that.”

Carter nodded. Kendra hesitated, just a moment.

“Sir,” she said quietly. “Do you mean to wait? For tomorrow? To confront Druce at this…exchange…he’s set up? Because…”

Leonard couldn’t help himself. “Don’t,” he said abruptly, with all the others looking at him. “Don’t wait. We know where they are. Tomorrow, he’ll have all his pieces together; he’ll hold most of the cards.”

He took a deep breath. Hunter studied him, then nodded, encouraging him to continue.

Leonard, who’d been turning all this over in his mind as they gathered information, did. “Fake them out a little,” he said, looking at the Guard captains. “Give them something to watch. Once there’s a loyal group of guards and soldiers massed, make it look like there might be an offensive on the Lord General’s city house. You have every reason to believe they’re all there.”

“And meanwhile?” Joe West asked him.

Leonard threw him a grin that had very little humor in it. “Meanwhile I go to Druce. Get myself into his hidey hole. Let him know I have something he wants.” He nodded at Sara’s intake of breath. “I am, after all, a thief. Druce thinks very little of me. He’d be unsurprised if I showed up with the stone, looking to make a deal for myself.”

Hunter started to respond--but Sara did first.

* * *

Sara hadn’t been afraid of losing something for a very long time. Well, that wasn’t entirely true—she was staying away from Stella to protect her friends and family, after all. But when she realized just what Leonard was proposing, she was again. She was afraid.

“No way you’re going without me,” she told him firmly. “He doesn’t think much of me, either—he made that clear. He won’t be surprised if we betray the king. And really, we’re the best two for this job.”

Leonard looked down at her, an odd combination of respect, relief, and regret in his eyes. Peripherally, Sara was aware of the king looking back and forth between them.

“The more fool him,” Hunter finally said, quietly and with a great deal of respect in his own voice. “And…when you’re there?”

“He knows I’m fond of Jonas,” Leonard told him. “He won’t be surprised if I make the boy one of my requirements.”

But Sara, to his surprise, shook her head. “But will he give him to you?” she asked. “A prince of the royal line? That’s asking for another coup in a handful of years, and Druce will know that.”

Harry and Carter murmured in agreement, and Hunter nodded. “Whatever he says about letting either of us go, if we leave the kingdom…I don’t believe him,” the king said grimly. “I know how the game is played.”

Len frowned, but he didn’t argue. “Good point,” he said, then shrugged. “Well, then, we steal a prince while they’re there.”

“But…what else are you planning?” Harry said, frowning. “He can’t actually get the stone…”

Sara gave him an amused look. “Assassin,” she reminded him, then glanced at Hunter. “I mean, if you’re authorizing that, majesty.”

The king closed his eyes. Sara heard Len hum a little in frustration at the man’s scruples, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did anyone else, letting the monarch consider the matter for a few moments.

Then Hunter opened his eyes and nodded.

“If you have to,” he said firmly. “If that’s what you need to do to end this and save my son.”

That was…giving Sara rather a lot of latitude, and she wasn’t going to argue with that. But Harry was speaking again, the frown still present.

“Taking the stone anywhere near him is a risk, though,” the mage said, “and it’s a problem that we know so little how Darhk did it, or how Druce can restore Savage.”

“Leave that to me,” Len told him definitively. “He won’t get it.”

Harrison gave him a speaking glance. “And you know your business,” he said, “I get it. But you’ve also told me before: ‘Expect the plan to go off the rails.’”

Len didn’t look amused at having his own words thrown back at him, but he did acknowledge them with a tip of his head.

“We need to know how to destroy it, then,” he returned. “Doing that in Druce’s face would put a crimp in his plans.”

Hunter stepped in before the two men could continue their back-and-forth. “Master Mage, do you have any thoughts on that?” He glanced at Sara. “Could we see the stone?”

Sara looked at Len—who shrugged, then sauntered over and pulled it, seemingly, out from behind Harrison’s ear, holding it out to the mage with a bow. The other man rolled his eyes, but took it, wincing as he touched it. Zari, who’d been standing against the wall and watching all of this with an expression of great dubiousness, wandered over to inspect it as well.

Leonard took the pause in banter to look down at Sara again. “You sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“Going after Druce? Yes.” She studied him. “You need someone to have your back.”

The sparkle in his eyes warned her about what was coming. “I dunno. I can think of other body parts I’d prefer you took occasional custody of.”

OK, so they were going to do this now, were they? Sara leaned closer, smirking. Even with everything going on around them, she was still having occasional trouble ripping her mind off the night before, and her thoughts on the future. “Well, then, I need to protect those, too.”

Len’s eyes lit even more, and Sara prepared herself contentedly for some relaxing banter…but then Harrison made a sudden, profanity-laced exclamation, and turned away from them all. He hurriedly out the door, leaving Zari holding the stone with a look of tremendous disgust on her face. The mage transferred it to between two fingers, holding it out toward Len and Sara.

But Hunter reached out and took it from her first.

“I don’t have any magic,” he said, studying the stone with an expression of distaste that apparently came more from what it was than what it felt like. “Neither does Jonas.” He shook his head. “I’d hoped he’d have his mother’s, but…it didn’t work out that way. Just as well; it’s never gone well with monarchs with magic before.” He glanced up at Zari, who was watching him with great curiosity. “What did our good Master Mage say before he ran out on us so precipitously?”

Zari gave him a little smile. “You mean, besides the curses? Something about Darhk, and ‘adamant.’ And…”

“That rat bastard!” And Harrison was back, literally dragging Martin Stein with him, Raymond trotting along beside them. “All right.” He released the other man, who gave himself a shake and glared at the mage. “That thing is no longer purely a gemstone. Its structure, at a very deep level, is different from anything I’ve ever seen before.” He folded his arms and regarded Martin. “Except one.”

The older man eyed him, then looked at the gemstone, which Hunter held out to him helpfully. Then he reached out and took it, wrinkling his nose.

“You studied it,” Harrison told him somewhat acerbically. “You must have known. We’ve talked about this, along with…” He rolled his eyes. “Cisco.” He waved a hand. “Take a good look. Not its magical makeup. Its physical makeup.”

Martin lifted the ruby up to eye level and narrowed his eyes. Sara, a little intrigued, thought she saw an aura of magic ripple around him, and then…

The curse that exploded out of the alchemist/artificer/mage’s mouth startled them all.

“That, that…” Martin used a few more words that made Sara smile and Len actually chuckle. “He stole our work. I knew he took my papers that one day. I _knew_ it.”

“Who?!” The king had had enough. “This is all _quite_ fascinating, but…”

“Darhk, of course.” Martin drew himself up. “I had been working on a material that was, at the time, theoretical.”

“There’s that word again,” Leonard muttered.

“Adamant,” Martin continued. “Harder than diamond. This has the structure, if you look deeply. Our papers were stolen, and I…abandoned the experiments for a time.” He growled again. “Darhk!”

“And probably Lewis too, if it was while he was still alive,” Leonard told him. “I know I didn’t touch anything like that, and I presume you confronted the Thieves Guild about it.”

Martin ignored him at that moment. “This isn’t just a gemstone anymore,” he said, holding up the stone. “It’s adamant. That may be how it finally held together to hold a…a soul, in Darhk’s experiment. But now normal means simply won’t be enough to destroy it.”

“Fortunately, you have me.” Harrison cut in with a shrug. “And _I_ am anything but normal.” He pulled something out of his belt pouch as most people in the room rolled their eyes and the others looked on with great interest. “I mentioned Jurgens, at one point this morning. After that conversation, I decided to retrieve the one useful thing we have of his experiments.”

“Wait a minute,” the king cut in. “And when did you have time to do _that_?”

The mage ignored him. “This,” he said, holding up another stone, this one blue, vaguely iridescent and slightly bigger than the ruby, “is a time stone. It usually resides in a locked box in a very hidden part of the Mages Guild hall, under a variety of mystical shields. If you activate it, it will effectively bring the might of many years—many, many years—to bear on what’s in its range. And it’s probably a very, very bad idea for me to be giving it…”

He held out the stone and waited until Leonard put his hand out underneath it. Sara bit her lip, a shiver running down her spine.

“…to you,” Harry finished, letting the blue gem fall into Len’s hand. “Jurgens called it an Oculus. Please. Be careful.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

To be honest, Leonard had been to Druce’s city house before, a few years back. Which was to say, he’d broken in, just to see if he could, had a good rummage around the man’s office, sadly not finding anything too incriminating, and stolen a pricey piece of jewelry and a pricier bottle of wine.

He still remembered the taste of that wine whenever he was unfortunate enough to cross paths with the man, and it helped him keep his tongue. Mostly. Even though he’d shared the bottle with Mick, who’d consumed the lion’s share of it.

Len supposed he was just a touch annoyed, professionally, that he hadn’t found any entrance to an underground complex then. But really, he hadn’t been looking for one. He’d hoped for some sort of incriminating _something_ , sure, but cults and their dead leaders hadn’t entered into it.

The world, as always, was strange.

He walked in at the gate, Sara at his side, both of them in dark and nondescript leathers, no weapons visible. Two guards tried to stop them, but they didn’t get so much as a blow in. Sara left them both lying on the ground, moaning, and the two Guild leaders kept walking.

More guards rushed out the door toward them. Leonard stopped this time, holding his hands out, as did Sara.

“Your boss will want to see me,” he said casually as the guards hesitated, startled by his unexpected action. “Trust me. And her, too.”

His smile grew. “I have…a bargain…for him.”

* * *

Leonard had been right. (Though Sara had no intention of telling him that yet.) Faced with a thief offering one of the things he wanted the most, Druce, even while laying low, couldn’t resist. And rather than emerge from his hidey hole with his purloined prince and his dead warlord, he chose to have the thief and the assassin brought to him.

The guard blindfolded them both, but Sara had an assassin’s senses, and she knew Leonard’s were no less keen. They both stayed silent as the guards guided them into the depths, down stairways and through corridors, finally coming into a room that echoed with their footsteps and contained the sound of only one other person breathing.

Sara was staring right at Druce when her blindfold was removed, and she was rewarded with an actual flinch when her cold eyes met his. The Council leader recovered quickly, stepping back, but Sara kept her eyes on his even as Leonard tilted his own head from side to side as his blindfold was removed.

“Ah,” the thief said, as casually as if he was meeting Druce at an eatery on a city street. “There you are, Druce. I get it, I really do, but that was a little more complicated than I expected.”

The other man, visibly annoyed at Leonard’s flippancy, raised his chin. “Thief,” he said with a note of disgust tinged with curiosity. “You said you had…a bargain.”

Leonard smirked at him. “I do.” He glanced around a bit. “However. I’m curious too. Where is he?”

Druce curled his lip. “What is it you think you have that I want?”

Leonard’s expression was unimpressed. “Answer my question,” he drawled in Druce’s face. “And I’ll answer yours.”

It was rather amusing to see the pompous Council leader struggle with his annoyance versus his desire to get what Len presumably had. After a moment, he jerked his head in an irritated nod, taking a step back and to the side, eyes on them.

“You have what I want,” he said directly, flicking back and forth between them. It wasn’t quite a question. “Show me.”

Leonard inclined his head, and then suddenly flourished the dark ruby, holding it up so the light caught it. But even as Druce stepped forward again, eyes fixed on it, Len brought forth the blue Oculus stone, wrapped in his other hand.

“Ah, ah,” he said. “I do have the means to destroy this thing. Do you think I’d be that careless?”

Druce dragged his eyes away to stare at the blue stone, eyes widening in realization and fear…and greed. “How…”

“Thief. Remember?” Leonard smirked at him. “I know my business. As does the assassin here.” He tilted his head toward Sara, who kept her face still and her eyes cold. “Anyway. I want to see. Show me. Then we can deal.”

Druce stared at them, then seemed to recollect himself. He took one more step backward, then another, and Leonard and Sara followed him, drawing farther away from the pair of guards who’d brought them there.

“How did you figure it out?” Druce asked, tone cold as they moved through a corridor, toward a room that seemed even bigger and more open.

Len snorted. “Your attackers in the street? The one still standing ran for the cult of Savage. From there, not so hard.”

Druce rather obviously hadn’t quite figured that. He paused, staring at them, then shook his head.

“Come,” he said curtly, stepping back into the room. “If you must see.”

Savage was there. Or, his body was. Sara took in the form of the man, dark-haired, with what she (with a good amount of experience in such things) considered a cruel mouth and ego in his very posture, even considering that he was quite dead. The preservation field kept the warlord’s corpse pristine, but Sara couldn’t help a surge of disgust she kept from showing.

Leonard studied the body clinically, as if he was, indeed, simply curious.

“Why?” he asked Druce, as if asking the time of day.

No evil mastermind can ever truly resist explaining his plan, and Druce was no exception. “Hunter is weak,” he shot back. “For all his so-called diplomacy, the Thanagarians are beasts. They will attack, one of these days, and we need to be ready. Better yet, we need to attack first!”

Len looked unimpressed.

“Ah yes. And take all their lovely, lovely land,” he drawled. “And their mines. Yeah, I’m sure. Anyway…” He turned away, presenting his back to Druce in clear insult. The other man’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t miss that Sara was still watching him—and was, at least, smart enough to know she was a danger even with no apparent weapons. “…let’s deal.”

Len sauntered back to the first room they’d been in, slower this time, and Druce had no choice but to follow. Sara kept her eyes on him, pacing him, and was gratified to see how the man watched her warily. Still, he gave her no clues to the prince’s location, no glancing toward any particular doors or other such gestures, and that unsettled her.

Len reached the other room first and turned, folding his arms, every bit like he was the one in control here. The guards were gone, which Sara found very interesting. Druce seemed to want witnesses to this less than he wanted that measure of safety—and apparently, he really did think Sara and Len were only out for themselves. In that case, they’d have no reason to kill him as long as he met their price.

Leonard lifted his chin. “I have the stone,” he told Druce. “You want the stone. I daresay you _need_ the stone. Ready to deal?”

Druce stared back, disgust warring with greed on his face. But he hesitated, and that sent a ripple of alarm along Sara’s nerves. She moved toward Leonard with alacrity, threat in her posture—but that didn’t seem to be what was distracting Druce.

The Council head nodded to himself then. “The other stone. The blue one. Do you know what that thing _is_? What it can do?” he asked, uneasiness and avarice in his voice.

Leonard lifted an eyebrow at him. The truth was, Wells had given them some information about the Oculus stone, but Druce seemed to have more, or to think he did. “Do tell.”

Druce’s mouth tightened in what seemed, to Sara, to be frustration and anger, but it wasn’t actually directed at them this time.

“Jurgens was a member of _my_ line,” he said sharply. “That should belong to _me_. Do you know the power…” He shook his head roughly. “No, of course you don’t. You’re no more intelligent than your predecessors, for all you seem to have a certain cleverness.”

Sara, who ignored the muttered words, could feel Leonard restraining the urge to bristle beside her. Any false humbleness on the part of them both aside, Druce’s words were so far off the mark as to be comical—but his comment about Jurgens, _that_ was something they hadn’t known.

For the first time, she felt a breeze, even so far below the ground, tickle her neck.

Leonard eyed Druce. “Why,” he drawled, letting a little bit of his annoyance enter his voice, “don’t you tell me?”

The older man just couldn’t resist the urge to hold forth. “That stone, that Oculus,” he said, starting to pace. “You’re right that it could destroy the adamant gem. One of the few things that could. But if Jurgens’ writings are correct, it also can be used to control time itself. Not,” he added quickly, turning, finally realizing that he was perhaps giving them information that wouldn’t help his cause, “in _your_ hands. Only I know how to use it. Only I can use it correctly, to pull time back into the shape it _should_ be.”

Something about Druce’s voice and his expression had every one of Sara’s nerves on edge. The man truly believed what he was saying, that was clear. And she’d already decided she never, ever wanted to see a world in which Zaman Druce said how things _should_ be.

She could kill him. Easily.

But they still didn’t know where Jonas was.

Leonard was almost certainly feeling the same unease, but he concealed it well. “Yeah, well,” he said nonchalantly, “I can still use it for the first purpose, if I need to. So perhaps we need to get this deal done so we can all move on with our lives.”

Druce frowned at him. “I want them both,” he said. “Both stones. That’s the deal. Name your price.”

Leonard named a number so quickly that Sara, without knowing what she did, never would have guessed that he’d been taken by surprise. They hadn’t expected Druce to know what the Oculus stone was, let alone more about it than they did.

It was a high number. Absurdly high, really. High enough that there should be no way even Druce could mobilize that kind of funds so quickly. Which was, she thought, rather the point.

The man hesitated. Then he quickly named a lower number—not so much lower as Sara had expected, really, but low enough that Leonard started to sneer at him.

But then Druce spoke again. And he offered them just what they wanted.

“And the boy. The prince. You can take him, too. He will fetch a fine price—either ransom him back to his father or reap the rewards if you return him,” Druce said with a shrug. “By noon tomorrow, it will be a moot point anyway. Or keep him, if you wish. With the Oculus, I’ll have no reason to be worried about him.”

The breeze, which really shouldn’t have been there, stirred Sara’s hair, but she didn’t move, watching Leonard, whose expression was opaque. Then the thief nodded.

“I want to have the kid in my hands before I trade anything,” he warned. “And he better be in good condition.”

Druce seemed, if anything, pleased at the response. He lifted his voice, calling, and two guards appeared, from down a corridor that’d been obscured by a wide pillar. Druce issued orders crisply, and the men both nodded and vanished, one back down the corridor, the other past them and back the way Sara was pretty sure they’d come the first time.

There then followed an awkward time in which Druce tried to look like he wasn’t dealing with a thief and assassin, and Leonard inspected the room they were in as if he owned it. Sara kept her eyes on Druce, the better to unnerve him, while the faint breeze whistled very faintly in her ears.

The second man returned first, holding out both a bag and a folder to Druce. The Council leader inspected them both, then nodded and eyed Len.

“This holds a portion of the sum in gemstones,” he said, holding up the bag. “And this…” He nodded to the folder. “…holds the remaining portion in orders for banks out-kingdom. I presume that…” His lip curled again. “…you’ll want to leave as soon as you can, given your actions.”

Sara, who knew even after a short time how very much Leonard A’Centralis loved his city, saw the look that flew over Len’s face, but it was apparently too subtle for Druce, who wouldn’t understand anyway. He didn’t say anything, and they continued to wait.

They heard Jonas before they saw him, showing the command of invective beyond his years that he’d shown in Druce’s message. The harried-looking guard marched the angry boy into the room at the end of a knife, something that made Len physically twitch, although Druce, fortunately, was also watching the boy and didn’t see it. (The breeze intensified.)

“Still the same guttersnipe trash that your father is, despite his current, _temporary_ station,” the Council head said, the sneer in his voice. “And your grandfather was as well, despite his once-noble line. Ah, well. That shall be remedied soon.”

Jonas glared at him, then flicked a curious glance at Len and Sara. Len kept his face impassive, although Sara could see what an effort it took him to do that, and she prayed fervently that Jonas wouldn’t find a way to spoil this setup.

But the boy was bright, as well as brave. He turned his gaze back to Druce, opened his mouth, then closed it, continuing to glare.

Druce looked back at Sara and Leonard, waving a hand at the prince. “There. Is the payment sufficient?”

Leonard studied the boy clinically, then held out his hand for the bag and folder. Druce clearly didn’t want to hand them over but knew perfectly well that the thief wasn’t going to trade without knowing the value of what he held. He handed Len the bag of gemstones first, looking uncomfortable while the thief inspected them, then the folder. Len took longer to go through that, but it seemed unlikely that Druce would expect anything less. He waited, as did Sara. And it gave her a few moments to think about something she hadn’t considered until now, although she’d bet Len had.

The plan had been to give Druce the adamant ruby, then for Leonard to arm and throw the Oculus stone in the complex as they left, giving them some time to get out of there. Harry hadn’t been fully aware if the stone’s effects would be purely physical or more…esoteric, but he’d said they’d have time to get away.

But that had been before they realized that Druce knew what the stone was. And beyond that, that he knew more about it than even the head of the Mages Guild and could very possibly deactivate it…and use it for entirely worse things than what they’d planned.

They couldn’t let him have it. They couldn’t even remotely risk that.

Sara took a quiet breath, shifting a little to feel the dagger in her underarm sheath. Druce glanced at her, and she opened her mouth…

But it was too late.

“OK,” Len said abruptly, closing the folder. He looked at Druce, who looked away from Sara. “I’m going to give the bag and these papers to the boy. And then Sara will take him and start to leave. And I’ll give you the items.”

“Leonard,” Sara said.

He didn’t look at her. Neither did Druce.

“Fine,” the Council head said coldly after a pause. He must have realized that they weren’t dependent on him to get out of here.

Jonas took the items Len gave him and took a few hesitant steps toward Sara, who took his hand and pulled him near.

“Leonard,” she said again, a horrible realization starting in her heart, even as she took a step backward, toward the corridor out.

“Go,” Len told her, without looking.

“Master Thief,” Druce told him sharply, “produce the items!”

“Leonard!”

Len gestured, and he had a stone in each hand again, pulled from wherever on his person he’d had them hidden. The ruby in his left, the blue Oculus in his right.

Druce smiled, an eager, evil expression. “Yes,” he hissed, reaching toward the stones.

Leonard tossed the ruby toward Druce, smirking as the man bobbled it before catching it. Then he looked down at the blue stone, tightening his fingers around it.

“Sara,” he said. “Get going.”

She took another step back, pushing Jonas behind her. The boy wouldn’t know how to get out of here without her, she was going to have…

_“You have just enough magic to prime it,” Harry had told him. “It doesn’t matter which kind. Just do…this.”_

And the Oculus started to glow blue. Leonard didn’t let go.

Druce’s eyes widened, and he finally realized that this wasn’t going to go at all according to his plans. Leonard raised the stone above his head then looked over his shoulder at Sara.

“Get him out of here!” he yelled.

Sara stared back, feeling tears in her eyes. “No!” she yelled in return, even while knowing she had to…she had to.

“Just do it!”

Druce grabbed his arm, getting a hand on the blue stone, and Sara could see the light begin to change, intensifying. There was an odd pressure in the air, and Jonas cried out.

Sara, hating herself, grabbed the boy and ran. Down the corridors, up the stairs, even as guards pushed past her on their way down to the subterranean complex. A noise had started behind her, or maybe it was just a feeling, a shock wave, the end of the world.

As they emerged from the house, they ran right into Harrison and Mick, as Kendra and Carter swooped down to claim Jonas. The mage seemed to know from the look on Sara’s face what had happened, or maybe he’d figured it all out from Zari’s eavesdropping. At any rate, he promptly turned and began hauling Mick backward, even as the big man (who was supposed to still be at the Thieves Guild hall) struggled against him.

Sara waited to be sure that no one was going to try to do that to her, then turned, ready to run back in.

The blast knocked her right off her feet.

* * *

After the dust had cleared, a team of mages and artificers helped make sure things were stable so a group of healers and other would-be rescuers and investigators could venture into what remained of Druce’s city house.

Fortunately, the former Council head had only kept a skeleton staff on, to help sell the illusion that he was with the others at now-former Lord General Declan’s property, and most of the bodies found were cult members and turncoat soldiers and guardsmen.

Sara insisted on being part of those who went down to the basement, even though, on some level, she knew what she’d find—or not find. So did Mick.

They found the complex, and a hidden office with much of Druce’s correspondence, plotting insurrection, war, and regicide.

They found Savage’s body, no longer under a preservation spell and really quite thoroughly deceased.

They found a cracked, dark, shattered ruby.

Druce was gone.

And so was Leonard.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Five days later**

Sara sat at her desk at the Guild hall and stared at her new Guild emblem, a nearly luminous moonstone, carved with a tiny knife and set into a chain of gold. Cisco had done good work; the piece was beautiful.

Still, after just a moment, Sara let it fall back down to the end of the chain, sighing. She had committed to staying in Centralis, and she meant to keep that promise. But nothing seemed the same, now, not the promise of building the Guild into what it should be, nor exploring the city that was now her home with the friends that she’d made. Nor even the challenge of helping the king restore the city to order after Druce’s coup attempt.

The noble families, each and every one of them, had rejected the actions of the Council members who should have been representing them. Eleven new Council members were either at the palace or on their way. The Druce family had ceded its seat; it seemed most of its members were more along the line of country squires, for all Druce’s ideas about true royalty, and they were appalled at his actions.

(A historian friend of Raymond’s had verified that Jurgens had been a member of the family, though he’d eschewed it to join the Mages Guild, where he hadn’t even bothered to use the patronym.)

For now, at least, the empty Council seat would be filled on a rotating basis by a Guild head, with Harrison Wells taking the first turn. The Master Mage had been horrified at what he’d accidentally wrought by letting Leonard take a magical item they didn’t thoroughly understand into a situation that, so it had turned out, they hadn’t thoroughly understood either. He seemed willing to take on the role to mitigate that guilt, although he’d told Hunter that he had some sort of investigation to finish before he’d take the seat.

Sara, for her part, didn’t blame him for what had happened. They’d had to destroy the stone. And Leonard, she realized now, had made his decision as soon as he’d realized what Druce’s knowledge meant. He’d made his choice.

She just wished to hells it’d all turned out differently.

Mick had taken his friend and Guild leader’s apparent—oh, she’d make herself think it—his death hard. He was still refusing to officially take the Guild or have Hunter confirm him in the role of new Guild head. Amaya, free now from serving as Sara’s second—Sara had raised Zaim to that seat, at least temporarily--made been spending much of her time with him, something that would have amused Sara more if she wasn’t feeling so very fragile in matters of…

She made herself think this, too. In matters of love.

She’d known Leonard only a few days. And she’d been falling in love with him. Now they’d never know how that would have gone, if they’d have scandalized their apprentices decades from now or simply remained friends, or…

Sara sighed again, then picked up her quill. It was time, she thought, to finally write to her family.

“Blondie?”

Sara glanced up, surprised that Mick had managed to sneak up on her. The big man stood in the doorway to her office, regarding her, and he…Sara frowned. He looked different. At least, different from the way he’d seen him recently, haggard and distracted. He almost looked…excited?

“I need to show you something,” he said. “C’mon.”

Sara shook her head, mystified. “Can we do this later? I…”

“Sara.” Amaya moved around Mick to stand by his side in the doorway. “Please.”

There was a subdued excitement about her, too, and Sara bit her lip. There was only one thing she could think of to cause that, but…

“OK,” she said, getting to her feet. “OK. Show me.”

They wound up at a place Sara hadn’t been before, although she’d meant to pay a visit and her respects to the Guild leader soon: the Healers Guild hall, a white-walled building near one end of Guild Row, bigger than most of the other buildings. It wasn’t the same as the hospital the Guild members ran in the city proper, but a few special cases were occasionally given space here, and Sara’s heart started pounding as soon as she realized where they were going. But…it couldn’t be.

“Mick,” she said carefully after the apprentice at the door let them in, “why…”

“Mick!” A brown-haired woman about Sara’s age, in a light-green healer’s robe, rushed toward them, smiling. She halted as she took in Sara, but then her smile grew, and Sara puzzled over it, trying to figure out who the woman reminded her of.

“And this is Sara A’Stella?” the woman asked in a manner that made it clear it wasn’t really a question. “Ah.” Her smile became a little sly, and then Sara saw it then.

The woman introduced herself before Sara could make that guess, though. “Lisa A’Centralis,” she said with a nod of her head. “I’m…I’m Lenny’s sister.”

Another time, Sara might have been a bit amused at “Lenny.” Now, she just flinched. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have come here earlier, to tell you…about what happened. Truly, I’m so sorry.”

The woman blinked—not what Sara was expecting. Then she eyed Mick, who looked a bit sheepish. “You didn’t tell her?”

The big man shrugged. “Thought best to show her.”

“What?” Sara asked suspiciously, the utterly unreasonable hope that she’d quashed earlier rising again. “Mick, Amaya, so help me…”

But Lisa turned away, starting down a hallway, beckoning them to follow her. “Well, then, let’s do that.”

Fortunately, it didn’t take long before they got to a closed door, one with a city guard stationed at it. Lisa nodded to him, but before she could touch the door, it opened…and Harrison Wells loomed there, blinking in surprise at Sara—and then actually smiling, an expression that looked odd on features Sara already knew were more used to sardonic amusement.

“You’re here!” he said, pausing in the doorway. “Excellent.” He took a step back, motioning Lisa and Sara to follow him back in.

Sara took one step in and stopped in her tracks. She heard Mick’s low rumble of laughter behind her, and Amaya’s happy sigh, and Lisa’s chuckle nearby.

And the hammering of her own heart.

“Len,” she whispered. “It can’t…what…”

Leonard was stretched out on the bed there, eyes closed, but his chest was rising and falling, and Sara could see that he was breathing peacefully. He was wearing what seemed to be a shift of sorts, but Sara could also see dark leathers folded on a nearby chair, apparently the ones he was wearing when…

She whirled, staring at Harry. “How?”

The mage gave her a small but sincere smile. “Druce had a lot of heretofore-unknown books and papers written by Jurgens in his lair,” the mage said. “I was one of the first ones to get in there, and I confiscated them—and started studying them. I hoped I’d find something in there—since we didn’t find, ah, a body…”

Sara swallowed, hard, stepping closer to Len’s sleeping form. “He’s OK? He’s been awake?” She turned back to stare at Harry, as Lisa passed her to check Leonard’s pulse. “How did you…”

“One thing at a time.” The mage was smiling again though. “In order. Yes. And yes. A few hours ago. Lisa and Mick verified that it’s him. He seems to remember everything right up to the blast.” He paused. “He asked for you.”

Sara closed her eyes a moment, then opened them again and gave him her best threatening look. (Which was probably spoiled by the tears in her eyes.) She heard Amaya and Mick quietly leave again, although Lisa moved toward them without speaking.

Harry looked like he was trying to figure out how to explain the situation when he wasn’t quite sure about it himself. “The Oculus blast—it wasn’t just an explosion,” he said finally. “It was a time wave, for lack of a better term. And to maintain the wave metaphor, it knocked our felonious friend here right off his feet and into…time.”

“Back in…”

“No. _Into_ time.” The mage sighed. “It’s hard to explain, and I’m afraid I’m still working it out myself. But…Masters Martin and Raymond worked with me, and we found a way to reactivate the Oculus and pull him out.”

“He makes it sound so simple,” Lisa interjected. “I was there too, with Cisco, because they thought the blood link might help.” She gave the mage a look that very much evoked her brother’s, as Sara stepped a little closer to Leonard. “It took them a while to figure out how to get a portal, and then Harry here held the portal open multiple times as they searched. He passed out afterward.”

“Well.” The mage actually sounded embarrassed. “I rather caused the…problem. I seemed only appropriate that I help fix it.”

Sara reached down and touched Leonard’s hand. It was warm. Normal and calloused and warm. She looked back over her shoulder. “But…Druce?”

“We didn’t look for him.” Harry’s voice was bleak. “If he’s there…he can stay there.”

Sara didn’t feel like arguing. At all. She looked back down at Leonard, who was frowning in his sleep. “And he’s OK.”

“He’s fine.” Lisa moved over to join her, and Sara could hear the sincerity the other woman was trying to layer into her voice. “Really. I wouldn’t tell you that if it weren’t true.” Sara could see her swallow, trying to contain her own emotions. “He’s my brother. He…he very nearly raised me, far more than Lewis did. And…”

“And despite the usual image of a thief, he’s a good man,” the king’s voice cut in then, and Lisa spun, bobbing a bow that quickly turned into a laugh as Hunter rolled his eyes at her. Sara, though, simply regarded the king as he moved in the door, and he watched her steadily in turn before letting his serious face relax into a smile.

“I will never stop owing you for the safe return of my son,” Hunter said quietly. “But…given how…close…you and the Master Thief seemed after only a few days, I hope this helps, a little.” He actually laughed at Sara’s expression. “There are few secrets in this city, Master Assassin. You’ll get used to that. I blame the bards.”

“Right,” Lisa told her, regaining her equilibrium in a way that definitely reminded Sara of her brother. “You’re the biggest gossip in this city, majesty. Or…so all the apprentices say.”

“And we all know the Guild apprentices have their finger on the pulse of this city more than anyone else.” Smiling, Hunter shook his head. “May we have a moment, master healer?”

Lisa nodded, then winked at Sara as she moved out into the hallway, where Sara could also see Harrison had fled. Alone, the king and the assassin regarded each other for a moment.

“You’re staying,” the king said finally. It wasn’t quite a question.

Sara nodded. “I am. I was even…” She looked down at Leonard. “…even before this. But this helps.”

Hunter let out a breath. “Good,” he said. “I…I’m still more comfortable among the Guilds than the nobles. And Len…the Master Thief…is a friend. I hope you are too.”

Sara, touched by the idea that an actual monarch considered her a friend, smiled back at him. “I would be honored.” She paused a moment. “Rip.”

The king gave her a grin that about halved his age. “Gideon would like it too,” he said quietly, then turned away, heading for the door, where he let Lisa back in. The other woman waited a moment, then turned and called after him as he left.

“Is it true there’s going to be a new queen soon?” she asked innocently, and both women laughed quietly for a moment as the king beat a hasty retreat.

Sara hesitated before looking at Lisa. “Can I…”

“You can stay.” The healer nodded. “Actually, there’s no reason to keep him here anymore—his vital signs are all good. He really was sort of suspended, while he was…gone.” She sighed. “Just…please. He cares for you. That’s not something he…does easily.”

“I will,” Sara told her, not precisely sure what she was agreeing to, but nonetheless ready to agree to it. “I’ll make sure he’s OK.”

Lisa gave her another quick smile, then paused and moved toward the door, slipping outside quickly. Sara, who’d been ready for some privacy, let out a breath, then turned back to the bed.

Len’s eyes were open, and he was watching her.

“Are they all gone?” he asked quietly, tilting his head from side to side as if to stretch his neck.

Sara stared at him. “Yes,” she said finally. “Were you awake that entire time?”

He didn’t answer that particular question—which was, really, answer enough---but continued to watch her.

“Sara,” he said finally.

“Len,” she returned, utterly at a loss as to what to say. The silence stretched a moment, and then he spoke again.

“Leave it to Harrison to pull me back to all my responsibilities out of sheer stubbornness.” His lips twitched, but then he glanced away. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Sara started to reach for his hand, hesitated, and then did it anyway, wrapping her fingers around his.

Len’s fingers, however, immediately tightened around hers. “For making that call. But I couldn’t see another good way out. And…”

“It’s OK,” Sara said quickly. “It’s OK. We have you back, and…” She looked down at their entwined fingers. “And that’s enough.”

Len studied her another moment. “Yeah?” Carefully, he tugged on her hand, pulling her down, toward him. Sara didn’t resist. She stretched out beside him with a sigh, putting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

“So,” she heard him whisper, “will the newly established alliance between the Thieves Guild and the Assassins Guild continue?”

Sara smiled, then opened her eyes again, tilted her head back to look into blue eyes, taking in the affection and…and maybe more…that she saw there.

“I don’t know,” she said lightly, “will the newly established alliance between the Master Thief and the Master Assassin continue?”

Len smirked. “I sure as hells hope so,” he said. And kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone interested in a sequel or two? SO MANY IDEAS.


End file.
